Message-ID: <37495asstr$1027509003@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "MARK  MERSEREAU" <m.mersereau@worldnet.att.net>
NNTP-Posting-Date: Tue, 23 Jul 2002 19:16:55 GMT
Subject: {ASSM} New:  Abducted and Enslaved (Part 7)
Date: Wed, 24 Jul 2002 07:10:03 -0400
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   { ASSM } {Mersereau} NEW "Abducted & Enslaved" Part 7 ( MM MF Mf FF FM
Ff Fm Mdom Fdom nc voy sm bd oral toys ) (7/?)


   The usual disclaimers: This is strictly adult material; all characters
are fictional.  Events in this story are unethical, immoral, and illegal.
Readers should understand that the story is strictly fiction.  Many of the
events and characters in it have no place in a civilized society.  No
redistribution without attribution to the above-named author.  No
commercial use whatsoever of this story.


   AEPart7.doc (pp.232-306)

   AE31.doc (pp.232-246)


   CHAPTER 31: Slave Sheila


   Despite their beauty and their elegance in their attractive evening
gowns, all twelve of the young women were now slaves.  Each was now the
property of some client.


   Sheila and the other females, led by Nina and followed by Kelly and a
guard, were marched from the Auditorium.  Nina led them down the hall into
the stairwell, and the group descended the stairs to the lowest level of
the building.


   They entered another hall.  It had been warm upstairs, but in the
basement it felt cold and, in their thin clothing the girls began to
shiver.


   They came to a series of gray metal doors, and Nina stopped them between
a door marked 'B38' on their left and 'B37' on their right.  Producing a
key from her pocket, the blue girl opened the left-hand one and led Anne
and Caroline into the cell.  She remained in it for about ten minutes, and
reappeared.


   Sheila observed that Nina carried both of the women's dresses over her
arm.


   Nina unlocked B37.  She told Sheila, "You go in here," and
unceremoniously grasped Sheila by the rump and propelled her into the room.


   "Toni is your cellmate," Nina said.  "She works in the Kitchen and
Dining Room.  You can expect her here later, when she's finished her
shift."


   "I'm hungry.  When will I get something to eat?"


   "I have no idea." She shrugged, as if the question was of no concern to
her.  "Ask Toni, or her guard.  Hold up your hands."


   She unlocked Sheila's handcuffs and removed them from her wrists but
allowed them to remain attached to her collar chain, from which they
dangled.


   "Take off the dress."


   When Sheila was undressed except for her shoes, stockings, and collar,
Nina re-manacled her wrists.  She gestured toward the left-hand bunk.


   "Get some rest.  Tomorrow someone will be here early to take you for
training."


   Nina turned and left the room.  Sheila heard the door slam behind her
with a metallic clang.


   She looked around the small room.  There wasn't much to see.  A single
overhead light was recessed behind a grill in the ceiling.  The walls were
painted a dull white over concrete blocks and were featureless except for
the rear wall which held a closed door and on each side of the molding, a
single clothing hook.


   The bunk that Nina had pointed to was a metal shelf.  Hinged at the
rear, it was supported in front by two metal legs.  Its only covering was a
bare mattress and a sheet.  Sheila looked at the other bunk to see if her
cellmate's was provided with a pillow and blanket but saw that it was
similarly bare.


   Going to the interior door, Sheila bent down and attempted to open it,
but her head bumped the door and even with both hands, she was unable to
grip the smooth brass knob firmly enough to turn it.


   She crouched down, and in that position she succeeded in opening the
door.


   Inside was a small bathroom.  She saw no tub, but there was a toilet and
a sink, above which was a mirror.  There was an overhead recessed light
like that in the cell behind her but, like the one in there, she found no
switch to it.  She wondered if it was left on day and night.  Behind a
curtain there was a shower.  Of the four towel bars; two were unused while
the others held a large bath towel, a face cloth, and a hand towel.  She
found a hair brush and combs, towels, soap, and other cleaning items in a
cabinet under the sink.


   There were no blankets or pillows.


   Sheila felt exhausted.  She longed for sleep, but the room was too cold.
After washing her face and hands, she removed two large bath towels from
the cabinet and lay down on the bunk, covering herself with them, and
curled up.  Almost immediately she fell asleep.


   It felt like about an hour later when she heard the sound of the
entrance door being unlocked.  She groggily sat up.


   A petite girl of about twenty, with black bobbed hair entered.  She was
wearing a French Maid's costume: A black blouse and black miniskirt, both
of nearly transparent nylon, a white cotton apron, black thigh high
stockings, glossy black pumps with three inch heels, and a white cap.  She
wore no collar.  A young man, a guard judging from his uniform, was
following her, but he stopped in the doorway when he saw Sheila.


   "Shit!" he exclaimed.  "You've got a roommate!"


   "Well, finally!" the girl said.  She smiled at Sheila.  Hi; am I glad to
see you!  I was getting bored to death being in this cell all by myself."


   She stopped beside the opposing bunk.  She removed her apron and dropped
it onto her bunk.  She nonchalantly began to unfasten the buttons of her
blouse.  "My name is Toni; what's yours?"


   "My name is Sheila.  I just got here this morning.  I'm awfully tired.
And hungry."


   Toni removed her blouse, apparently unconcerned that her breasts were
bare under it, and she dropped the garment on top of the apron.  She faced
Sheila, displaying perfectly formed B cup breasts with tan areolas that
were so small, about the diameters of nickels, that they made her
normal-sized nipples look large in comparison.


   "I heard that there were a bunch of girl's in today's shipment," she
said; "Ten or so."


   "There are twelve of us.  Also, six boys and men."


   "No kidding!  Wow, I wonder how Crane's trainers are going to handle a
crowd like that!"


   "We were auctioned an hour or so ago.  I hardly got any sleep last
night, and I was asleep when you got here."


   Toni slipped her thumbs into the elastic waist of her skirt.  With a
wiggle, she worked it from her hips, revealing a chestnut-colored,
triangular muff that looked carefully trimmed.  She let the skirt slither
down her slender legs onto the floor and stepped out of the resulting nylon
ring.


   "I heard that Crane had some good lookers in this shipment, but you're a
knockout!  Are the others as gorgeous as you?"


   Sheila blushed.  "I guess so."


   Naked, Toni bent down, picked up the ring of nylon, and casually tossed
it onto the blouse.


   She seemed entirely unembarrassed.  Sheila watched her turn and walk to
the guard.


   She raised her forearms, putting her hands (which she had clenched into
fists), beneath her chin, her wrists together.  "I'll have to pay you
another time, Mike," she said.  "Tomorrow?"


   The young man withdrew handcuffs and a short chain from a shoulder
pouch. He manacled her wrists in the same way as Sheila's.


   The guard showed no intention of turning toward the door.


   He raised his hands to Toni's breasts and grasped her nipples, pinching
them between his forefingers and thumbs.


   "I'm pretty horny, Toni," he said.


   "Oh my!" Toni responded, giggling.  "I guess you are."


   "How about the bathroom?" he asked.


   "Oh, that sounds uncomfortable, Mike.  Sit on my bunk.  I'll take care
of you here."


   "No." With a motion of his head he indicated Sheila.


   "Will it embarrass you if she watches?  I won't mind!"


   "No.  Let's go into the bathroom!"


   "O.K." she replied, shrugging.  "If that's what you want."


   They entered the bathroom and the door closed behind them.


   The bathroom door did a poor job of muffling the sounds from within. 
Nevertheless, Toni and the guard kept their voices low, and the words that
they exchanged were too inaudible for Sheila to catch.


   She heard the sound of the toilet seat slamming down.  She heard some
muffled sounds, perhaps from Toni.  A minute or two later she heard the
young man's voice come clearly through the closed door.  "Yeah, Toni. 
That's it!  Yeah!"


   Soon after, he began to moan.


   Sheila heard little from Toni except soft and indistinct sounds.


   Sheila lay on her bunk.  She tried not to make any noise herself.  It
embarrassed her to think of having them hear sounds from her and realize
how much sound the wall transmitted.


   Once Sheila heard Toni's whisper, "Is this good?" and his response,
"Mmm-hmm!"


   Sheila doubted that they were in the bathroom for longer than fifteen
minutes, but it seemed to last forever.  Finally, she heard a loud
"Aaaaah!" from the guard.  Subsequent ones from him diminished in intensity
and finally ended the vocal sounds coming through the door.


   The guard came out first, without giving Sheila a glance.  He sat on
Toni's bunk for a moment, then lay back on it and closed his eyes.  The
sound of running water and the brushing of teeth came through the closed
door.  After a few more minutes, Toni came out.  She sat on her bunk next
to the guard's feet.


   There was an embarrassing silence.


   In spite of the towels, Sheila felt cold, and she shivered.  She was
terribly hungry.


   After about a minute, Toni looked over at Sheila.  "How was the
auction?"


   "We were sold," Sheila answered, not knowing what else to say.  "All
twelve of us."


   Toni was staring at something on Sheila's bunk.  She immediately glanced
at Mike, whose eyes were still closed, and then back at Sheila.  She put
her forefinger to her lips, and then pointed to the towels beside Sheila
and motioned with her hand.  Sheila interpreted the sign to mean that she
wanted Sheila to get rid of the towels, and she rose and carried them into
the bathroom.  She hung them on a bar and returned.


   I guess I'm not supposed to use them as blankets.


   "All I've had to eat today," Sheila said, "was some soup around lunch
time.  I'm starving."


   Seeming not to hear her, Toni gave a little laugh.  "I wonder who bought
you?  I wish I'd been there.  If I hadn't been working, I'd have bribed a
guard to take me to see it."


   "I'm awfully hungry," Sheila complained.  Toni seemed uninterested in
her plight, and she was beginning to feel desperate.


   Toni shrugged and yawned.  "Well, I know how you feel.  But, you know,
Crane doesn't care if we're hungry all the time.  It's an incentive for us
to work in the kitchen.  That's about the only way you'll get enough to
eat. If you don't work in the kitchen and you aren't lucky enough to be a
blue girl, you'll always feel like you're starving.  As far as Crane is
concerned, slaves can go hungry.  He thinks American girls are too fat. 
Crane is kind of weird.  He likes them skinny."


   She smiled, stood up, and ostentatiously undulated her bare hips.  "He
likes them like me."


   Toni's figure was as slender as that of any high school girl.  Had
Toni's hands been free, Sheila could readily imagine the brunette running
her hands sensuously down her hips, mimicking a model attired in a formal
gown parading across a stage, even though Toni was completely naked.


   Toni glanced down at the guard again.  She leaned forward, grasped his
leg, and shook it.


   "What?" he said, opening his eyes.


   "Escort me back up to the kitchen, Mike.  I need to bring Sheila a box
lunch."


   "If she wants food, she can make me an offer.  I don't do favors."


   "Sheila just got here, Mike.  She doesn't know how we do things."


   "So tell her." He closed his eyes again.


   Toni turned to Sheila.  "When we need or want something here, Sheila, we
have to pay for it."


   She paused, evidently searching for an appropriate expression.  "If it's
from a guard or trainer we, uh, trade.  Sometimes Mike takes me to the
beach.  I pay him the way I did in the bathroom."


   I see.


   Sheila glanced at the young man and saw that he was watching her.


   "You won't get me any food unless I give you something in return?"


   "That's right," he replied, giving her a little smile.  "You can owe me.
I'll come back this time tomorrow for the payment."


   Bastard.


   "I'll do without the food."


   He looked surprised, and his lips tightened.  "Suit yourself, Cunt."


   He got up, not looking at her.  "I guess I'll go, Toni." He turned
toward the door.  "I'll see you tomorrow."


   The door reverberated behind him.  Sheila heard the lock and then his
receding footsteps.


   Sheila's stomach felt emptier than ever and actually hurt.  She began
shivering again and she felt tears well in her eyes.  She didn't want Toni
to see them, and she lay back on the bunk, turning her face toward the
wall.


   I guess I made a mistake.  I should have agreed to do what he wanted.


   "That's too bad," Toni said.  "Mike can be rotten sometimes.  You're too
attractive.  I guess he really wants to fuck you."


   Sheila felt tired but, as cold and hungry as she felt, she doubted that
she could sleep.  She sat up again, her back against the cold wall.  She
didn't bother to keep the towel up.  Why cover her breasts when Toni didn't
cover hers?


   "Will I get anything to eat in the morning?"


   "Sure.  A slave brings pastries and fruit at six.  We do our own baking
here.  You'll get just one pastry, but you can have as much fruit as you
want."


   "A slave comes down to the cells alone?"


   "Oh no!" Toni said with a laugh.  "A guard comes down to unlock our
cells each morning.  She comes with him.  The only slaves who go around
without a guard are the ones with gold collars."


   "Blue girls?" Sheila asked.  "Don't they have to be accompanied?"


   Toni shook her head.  "Crane trusts them to do everything.  He even
promoted two blue girls to be trainers."


   "Crane said that some of us could apply for a position as a blue girl.
Uh, do you think I could?"


   Toni raised her eyebrows.  "You mean that you're interested?  I never
heard of an untrained girl getting promoted to a blue girl."


   "Does Crane have a rule against it?"


   Toni shrugged.  "I don't know.  Not that I heard.  If you're serious, I
don't suppose it would hurt to apply.  But, a blue girl's hours are pretty
long.  Besides that, don't show sympathy for us regular slaves.  Crane will
make you discipline a girl, and you'd better do it with enthusiasm."


   "I won't like that.  But, if I have to, I suppose I can do it."


   "Crane will first fuck you, or do some weird stuff with you.  Of course,
he does that to most of the new girls anyway."


   "Weird stuff?!" Sheila responded.  "What do you mean?"


   Toni shrugged.  "Sarah--she's his personal slave now, but she was my old
roommate--told me about some things that he did to her when she first got
here.  Jeff, our electrician, makes electrical things, and Crane made Sarah
use them on herself, I suppose to test them.  She told me that sometimes he
made her keep them clamped on and in her for hours and he only let her take
them off to use the bathroom."


   "That does seem weird.  Were they painful?"


   "I didn't get that idea.  'Embarrassing' is more the word."


   * * *


   The next morning, lying beneath two large towels, Sheila was again
awakened by the grating of a key in the lock.  She sat up, and held one of
the towels around her as the door opened.  Two men entered.  Actually, she
realized, the one in the rear was a youth who looked no older than
seventeen or eighteen.


   She heard the younger one say in a loud whisper, "Woo!  She's gorgeous!"


   The boy was big, with brown hair that he wore rather long.  He was
carrying a small package that didn't appear heavy, but he held it with two
hands.  His physique reminded her of Bill, Jane's boyfriend.  He looked
like a linebacker.


   The man looked about thirty years of age and was slender and wiry, with
well-combed blond hair that had streaks of brown running through it.


   "She's pretty enough," the man agreed.  "She's new.  She came yesterday,
on the ship with you.  Of course, you wouldn't have seen her.  I went to
the auction; I saw her there."


   Toni opened her eyes.  "Morning, Duke," she said, yawning.  She curled
her naked body into a tighter ball and re-closed her eyes.


   "Hi, Toni," the man replied, glancing at her.  He looked back at Sheila.
After staring at her for a few moments, he said, "Stand up."


   She complied, holding the towel awkwardly with her manacled hands before
her like a curtain.


   He grabbed the towel and jerked it away.  He tossed it onto the floor.


   "You're to respond with 'Yes, Master' whenever I give you an order," he
said.  "Don't forget."


   "Yes, Master," she replied.


   She felt terribly embarrassed, standing before the two men naked.  Even
on the stage the previous day she hadn't felt so exposed.  Perhaps their
proximity was the reason.  If the man took one step closer, his shirt would
touch her breasts.


   Duke grasped Sheila's upper arm, just below the handcuff.  He pulled
her, almost dragged her, toward the rear wall, until she was under one of
the two clothing hooks that projected from the wall on each side of the
bathroom door.


   "The hook is too high," he remarked.  He unfastened the snaphook that
held her handcuffs to her collar.


   "Raise your arms higher," he told her.


   "Yes, Master." She held her arms up as high as she could, but her wrists
were still below the hook.


   He grasped one of her wrists and pulled it until her arm was straight
up.


   She understood that he wanted the links that held her handcuffs together
onto the hook, and she raised herself on her tiptoes, enabling him to pull
them onto it.  When she came back down on the flat of her feet, her wrists
were held so far above her head that her arms were held rigidly vertical by
the now-hooked handcuffs.


   "You're not to use the towels as blankets," Duke told her.  "Every
night, you'll sleep naked.  No towels.  Nothing.  Understand?"


   "Yes, Master," Sheila said.  "I'm sorry.  But, it was so cold in here,
that . . .  "


   Suddenly she felt the sharp sting of a blow upon her buttocks..


   "Oh!" she exclaimed, jumping.  Although her buttocks stung, the blow
surprised her more than it hurt.


   She turned her head.  Duke was wielding a wooden-handled whip that it
consisted of a flat brown strap, probably of leather.  It was stiff and
glossy, about the length of a twelve inch ruler, but thicker and heavier.


   "You don't speak until you're spoken to," he said.  His tone was mild,
which surprised her.


   I suppose he disciplines girls often, and whipping me is just routine.


   "Count each blow aloud now, and thank me for it."


   He held the whip up to her face.  "First, kiss it," he ordered.  "It
will be one of your many lovers during your training."


   Sheila put her lips to it and kissed it.


   "Ready?"


   "Yes Master."


   The first blow was hard; it sounded like the clap from a pair of male
hands.  Sheila had anticipated it, though and, despite its sting, she
didn't cry out.


   "Count!" Duke ordered.


   "One," Sheila said.  She felt foolish.


   The next blow stung much more.  The report was like that of a
firecracker going off.  It stung terribly.  Sheila realized that his first
blow had been restrained.


   "Ow!" she exclaimed.  She began twisting on her tiptoes, unconsciously
trying to evade the subsequent blows.  Tears welled in her eyes.


   "Say it loudly, and thank me!"


   "T-Two!" Sheila cried.  "Thank you, Master!"


   To her relief, the third blow was softer.  It was little more than a
tap. Nevertheless, her cheeks were beginning to feel sore, and despite the
softened blow, their soreness made the blow still hurt.


   "Three!  Thank you, Master!


   "Four!  Thank you, Master!  Was it harder?  She couldn't tell.  Whether
it was or not, stung more than the preceding one.


   "Ow!  Five!  Thank you, Master!  That was definitely harder.  She was
angry with herself that she had cried out and that tears were running down
her cheeks.


   "Ow!  Six!  Thank you, Master!


   Oh, god!  I can't tell anymore how hard he's hitting me!  They all hurt,
terribly!


   "Ow!  Seven!  Thank you, Master!


   "Ow!  Eight!  T-Thank you, Master!"


   She was fearful of forgetting the count.  The pain made it difficult to
keep track.


   The heat and sting of her buttocks was rising.


   Oh, god!  how long is he going to keep whipping me?


   The next three blows were hard and vicious.  They seemed harder than
that terrible second one, but perhaps it only seemed so because of her sore
buttocks.


   "Ow!!" she cried.  "N-Nine!  Th-Thank you, Master!


   "Ow!!  Ten!  Thank you, Master!


   "Ow!!  Eleven!  Thank you, Master!"


   Six blows whose impact was milder followed.  Despite their lightness,
they hurt as much as the heavy ones had.  Sheila was humiliated that she
continued to cry out despite trying not to.  Her outcries bothered her more
even more than the pain.


   Loudly, probably to be heard over the sounds of the blows, Toni
exclaimed, "Duke!  don't you think her cheeks are pink enough?"


   "Yes," Duke replied.  But, the next three blows were hard.  Each felt
like a hundred wasps stinging her buttocks, but Sheila, gritted her teeth;
she was determined not to cry.


   "Ugh!  Eighteen!  Thank you, Master!"


   "Ugh!  Nineteen!  Thank you, Master!"


   Tears ran down her cheeks.  The twentieth blow was the hardest of all.
Even though Sheila managed not to cry, the blow drove her hips against the
wall.


   "Ugh!!  T-Twenty!" she stuttered.  "Th-Thank you, M-Master!"


   Duke held the strap before her face.  Sheila, seeing it, gasped with
relief.  She drew in a deep breath, and then exhaled.  Her cheeks were wet
with tears, put her lips to it and kissed it.


   "Thank you, Master," she said, not knowing why she uttered the words. 
She could hardly believe it, but she realized that her clitoris was hard.


   Duke smiled.  He slipped the whip back in his belt.


   "You'll be sore for the rest of the day," Duke said.  He gripped her
forearm and pulled Sheila onto her tiptoes again.  He removed the link
between Sheila's handcuffs from the hook.


   "Are you taking Sheila for a whole day of training?" Toni asked.


   "It might be just half a day, Toni," Duke responded.  "Crane got a
shit-load of females in yesterday.  It's going to be tough, we're so
short-handed."


   "Well, would you tell Mike that I'm, uh, alone here, Duke?"


   Sheila saw him give her a grin.


   "I will if I see him, Toni.  I think you're out of luck, though.  I
don't think he'll have any more free time than me."


   "Well," the brunette suggested, "Why don't you put some of the girls in
the E.L.?  Clients enjoy playing with untrained girls."


   "You're no help, Toni.  We planned on that before the ship ever got
here. Crane told us we were going to have a bunch this time.  On top of the
dozen females, he got three odd ones that Mike brought on his launch.  We
need more help."


   "How about girls in his own suite?  Didn't he pick any to play with
himself?"


   Duke laughed.  "When hasn't he?  I'm bringing him two this morning. 
With those plus Sarah, he'll be more worn out than we will."


   "I'll bet that both girls are skinny."


   "They're kinda small-titted, if that's what you mean.  One seems pretty
old for the Academy; she must be over thirty.


   "Anyway," he said; "I can't waste time here, bull-shitting."


   He took the package from Jimmie and tossed it onto Sheila's bunk.  "Your
outfit, a standard one.  The bathroom is just down the hall.  You're going
to take a bath before your training.  Do you want to go there bare-ass or
in your training clothes?  It ain't much of a walk to the bathroom."


   Sheila said, "I-I'll put the clothes on."


   "Hurry up then." He withdrew a key from a pocket, and he undid her
handcuffs.  "No dawdling."


   Sheila undid the package on her lap, bending forward to pull open the
wrapping.  Inside was a white nylon blouse that was cut off above the
navel, with front snap closures, a black and white pleated cotton
miniskirt, and elastic-topped black thigh high stockings.  A plastic bag
held a pair of black slippers.


   Standing naked, Sheila was acutely aware of Duke gazing at her body as
she raised a knee to step into it the skirt.


   "Doesn't she have a great body, Duke?" Toni said.  Sheila had the
feeling that Toni was intentionally adding to her embarrassment.


   "Yeah, Toni.  You should have been at the auction yesterday.  The
clients went bananas bidding on her."


   "Any idea who bought her?"


   "Sure, and so does everybody else.  The bidding went on so long that the
buzz went through the place that it was a woman who kept raising the ante.
Then, near the end, she had some sort of argument with the guy she was
bidding against.  By then, everybody knew it was Lezzie LeBeau."


   "Really!" Toni's eyes widened.  "Wow!" she exclaimed; "I really wouldn't
want to . . .  "


   She cut herself off in mid-sentence.  Sheila wondered why, and her
speculations made her uneasy.


   Despite the near-transparency of the thin blouse, Sheila was relieved
when she finally had both her skirt and blouse on.


   Toni looked up at Sheila from her bunk.


   "Well, Duke," she said with a smirk, her eyes on Sheila's face, "Before
you turn her over to Lindsey, I bet you'll have fun with her!"


   He smiled and nodded.  He glanced at Sheila, who felt her face grow
warm.


   "I'm looking forward to it."


   * * *


   Without bothering to re-attach her loose cuff, Duke and Jimmie led
Sheila down the hallway.  They entered a bathroom that, as far as Sheila
could tell, was identical to the one Nina had taken her to the day before;
the only difference was the color of the towels on the bars.  Yesterday the
towels had been a pink that matched the d�cor.  These were black.


   "Take off your skirt," Duke told her.  Sheila saw him withdrawing tubing
from a cabinet.


   "Oh no!" she exclaimed.  "Not another enema!  Please!"


   Duke gave her a wry smile.  "Hold her Jimmie."


   The young man was strong, and Sheila didn't attempt to struggle as he
grabbed her arms and held them before her.


   "Make her bend over," Duke said.


   Jimmie gripped her forearms and pulled them downward.  He pulled until
her shoulders were lower than her hips.  Sheila felt the miniskirt skirt
rise up her buttocks.  She was aware of how much she was exposing her
privates to Duke's view, but there was nothing she could do to prevent it.


   A moment later she felt fingertips rudely grip her exposed labia.  The
outer ones were pulled away from the inner ones.  "Please!" she protested,
trembling.  "Don't do that"please!"


   He withdrew his fingers.  "Hold her steady, Jimmie."


   "I am, Duke."


   Suddenly, Sheila's buttocks were again stung by the fierce blow of a
strap that sounded loud in the tiled room.


   "Ow!" she exclaimed.  The blow on her already sore buttocks hurt even
more than the last few blows had in her cell.


   "Why did you do that?"


   "You don't object to anything," Duke told her.  "If a Master wants to
play with your cunt, you don't object, get it?  And, when he's done, you'll
say, "Thank you, Master.  Understand?  Count, now, and thank me!"


   "Yes, Master."


   The subsequent blows hurt even more.  By the tenth which was
(thankfully) the last, tears were seeping from her closed eyelids.


   "O.K.  Jimmie; let her up."


   Sheila straightened up, wondering how long it would be before she would
be able to sit down without pain.


   * * *


   To my Readers:


   I'm writing this novel in MSWORD and, in that format internal dialogue &
emphasis are italicized.  Other formatting also renders clarity beyond what
the Text version in ASSTR provides.  For those of you who would like to
obtain the MSWORD version, I'd be pleased to send zipped copies of those
Parts of it that you do not have and would like to receive.


   m.mersereau@worldnet.att.net


   AE32.doc (pp.247-254)


   CHAPTER 32: Lindsey Visits Babette & Leon


   Babette was showering before she and Leon dressed for dinner.


   Leon removed her bottle of Armagnac and a snifter from the liquor
cabinet.  He was in a foul mood, and he felt the need to relax.  He filled
the goblet, placed the bottle on the lamp table beside the sofa, and sat
down.  He took a large swallow.


   Not bad.


   He examined the label on the bottle and smiled wryly.  Fin Class, from
Condom.  Peculiar and amusing name for a city.  He replaced the bottle on
the table, leaned back, and closed his eyes.


   Babette's dropping out of the bidding for the blonde had disappointed
him.


   He'd gotten a brief look at the blonde's body, but her exhibition hadn't
been nearly long enough.


   Despite applying all his charm to persuade Babette to buy her, he'd been
unsuccessful.


   He had no compunctions about physically abusing a woman to obtain
something from her although he preferred humiliation.  For Babette, neither
method seemed appropriate.  He wondered if his abuse of the perfumer's
daughter long ago was the reason for his lack of compunctions with women.
Compelling the girl to use the wine bottle had led to many pleasant
daydreams over the years.  Anyway, abuse worked for him; he had only
contempt for men who pampered their mistresses.


   Babette should have competed longer in the bidding for Sheila.  On the
other hand, if she had raised the ante, I have the feeling that the lesbian
Lindsey would have increased the stakes anyway.  Perhaps she'd have
continued bidding up indefinitely.  She seemed determined to get the
blonde, no matter how high the bidding got.


   It was seldom difficult for Leon to obtain a woman.  He felt at ease
seducing one; it amused him to apply his charms, time after time, using the
same routine.  Typically, a woman who received his attentions, even a
beautiful one, felt flattered.  He knew that his looks and flippant 'take
it or leave it' attitude, were turn-ons for her.  He wasn't accustomed to
having his lust thwarted.


   He had expected Babette to succeed in bidding for Sheila, and the
setback rankled.  He wondered if there was some other way through which he
could obtain the blonde, at least for a long enough time to thoroughly
enjoy her.


   Annoyed about the blonde, he found it difficult to concentrate on
finding the Millet girl.  He'd not even glimpsed her since his arrival.  Of
course, it was possible that all the furor created by the Americans about
her disappearance could have induced Hawk Nose to dispose of her, doubtless
in the ocean.  If she were still alive, perhaps Crane had her in one of his
basement cells; if so, he'd have to go down there and investigate.


   He smiled to himself and sipped the Armagnac.  Fine brandy.


   A search of the cells might be a bonanza in itself.  If he began his
search of the cells in the middle of the night, there would be time for
some pleasant moments with the females who were stored there.  Moreover, in
his search for Janine, he might discover Sheila.  She ought to be in a cell
for the duration of her training period, unless the lesbian had ordered her
to be delivered untrained.


   Besides the Millet girl, he needed to determine the island's location.
The only one who would know it for certain would be Hawk-Nose.  Anyone else
might be misinformed.


   I'll find a time when Crane is gone from his office.  An auction would
be ideal, but god knows when the next one will be.  I'll have to persuade a
blue girl to describe his schedule.


   Finally, if possible, he needed to discover who Crane's mainland
associates were.  The Director would require a bone to throw to the New
York authorities in the form of the names of the men who carried out the
abductions and delivered the girls to Yvonne's ship.


   Leon placed the empty snifter on the lamp table beside the bottle. 
Babette's purse lay on the cocktail table.


   He went through it and quickly found Babette's key to the E.L.  He
slipped the key in a pocket.  He'd visit the room before she awoke, early
tomorrow.  If there were captive women in the E.L., he'd photograph them.
If a blue girl happened to be in the room, the fact that he had a key
should dispel any suspicions that she might have.  No one but he and
Babette could be aware that Babette was paying all the bills and that the
keys were hers.


   He returned to the sofa.  He filled the snifter with more brandy.  He
thought again of the blonde's body.  Recalling her stripping on the stage,
he soon had an erection.


   Babette exited from the bathroom.  Leon observed her through the open
doorway to the bedroom.  She was rubbing her arms with a large black towel
as she walked toward the bed, her ample breasts bobbing rhythmically.


   He watched her sit on its edge, reach beside her for a stocking, and
bend down, drawing it up her thigh.  He watched her repeat the process with
the other stocking.  Except for her black nylons, she was naked.  Leon
stood up, pulling the cloth of his pants outward, to accommodate the pole,
and he limped into the bedroom, retaining his nearly full glass in his
hand.


   Babette looked up.  She noticed the bulge, and she flushed.


   "Again, Leon?  You want that every time I come from the shower!"


   "Are you tired of pleasing me?" he asked, coolly.  He looked down.  Her
breasts were firm and inviting.


   "You know I'm not.  But you don't make love to me any more like you did
in Paris.  All I do now is suck your cock!"


   He looked down at her.  Her black stockings, up to her thighs, served to
emphasize how naked she was above them.


   Leon unzipped his fly.  His freed penis sprung out, directly before her
face.  The swollen head bobbed slightly, following the rhythm of his pulse.


   Babette sighed.


   She reached up with her long fingers and grasped the shaft below its
head.  She reached out with her other hand and groped in his trousers with
two fingers.  She hooked his testicles and drew them out.


   Babette parted her lips.  She leaned forward and lowered her head.  Leon
felt her mouth descend over his penis, sliding in on the warm cushion of
her tongue.


   She looked up and their eyes met.  Leon smiled.


   "You may object, but you enjoy sucking my cock," he said.  "By the time
I come, you're cunt will be dripping wet."


   Babette's face flushed.  She lowered her gaze, drew back slightly.  Leon
felt her tongue working on the head of his penis.  She began to suck.


   Leon raised the snifter.  He sipped from it, savoring the flavor.  It
was excellent Armagnac.


   Leon covered Babette's head with his free hand.  He gazed down on her
naked back, the ridges of her spine.  He imagined that it was Sheila who
was rocking forward and back and her full lips that ringed his shaft.


   Leon watched her crimson-nailed fingers stab the skin of his testicles.


   Although their skin was wrinkled and erect, somehow she managed to twist
them and, when she had them tight, she drew them toward her.  They
resembled two huge pink marbles before her lips.  She thrust out her tongue
and began licking them; she seemed intent on covering all of their exposed
surfaces.


   Babette was adept, and Leon soon closed his eyes.


   He thought of Sheila's naked form on the stage.  She had obeyed Crane's
command to bend forward toward the audience.  Crane had raised her breasts
to display them.


   Leon felt Babette's arms encircle his hips and her hands grip his
buttocks through his trousers.  They pulled him forward, and he felt the
head of his prick force into a tight cavity as warm as her vagina, but more
snug.  Electric thrills surged up from his loins.


   Sometimes she could suppress her gag reflex and take the entire length
of his shaft in her mouth until the head of his penis was buried in her
throat.  Then, her subsequent gagging induced such exquisite sensations
that, no matter how much Leon tried to restrain himself, wanting to prolong
them, they always brought on his orgasm.


   He felt her head draw slowly back and he watched her tightly encircling
crimson lips withdraw up his shaft until only the fat head was still
within. Then she suddenly thrust forward and took the entire length back
in. He couldn't see her face, pressed as it was into the cloth of his
trousers, firmly in his groin.


   "Aaah!" Leon exclaimed, clutching her head.


   But Babette drew back again until again only the head was engulfed.  He
watched her fingers encircle the shaft.  She began to pump, jerking her
hand forward and back, rapidly and unceasingly.


   His felt his penis suddenly grow rigid.  Then it jerked, and Leon looked
down.  Babette's eyes were closed and she had her lips pursed around the
tip of the pink-violet head.  She gulped.  It jerked again, and she gulped
again.


   Following the last spasm, Babette opened her mouth and freed the head
but continued to grip the shaft in her hand.  Holding it, she pulled the
skin slowly toward her face, milking it.  As each drop oozed out, she
licked it off.  Finally, she swabbed the entire head with slow, circular
sweeps of her tongue.  When she released it, except for the gloss of
saliva, it was clean.


   Leon raised his glass for a last drink.  He looked at it, surprised. 
He'd been sipping it throughout Babette's blow-job, and it was empty.


   "Stand up," he ordered.  He backed away until he was a foot farther from
her, giving her room to slip from the edge of the bed.


   She gave him a questioning smile, but she stood up.  She was so close to
him that her breasts indented against his chest.


   Leon lowered his hand and, placing his palm on her pubis, he inserted
two fingers between her labia.


   "You're wet," he said.  Your clitoris feels like a rock."


   He wiggled it.  Babette moaned, and her eyes closed.  He stroked and
continued to lightly wiggle it, and her cries grew louder.


   He pushed her back and she fell across the bed, leaving her stockinged
legs over its edge.  Pulling her legs apart, he knelt on the carpet between
them, and he inserted his tongue into the folds of her swollen labia.  He
began to laugh.


   "What are you laughing at, you brute!?"


   "You're a sea of juice.  There's more than enough for me.  You'll drink
some of this."


   He sucked noisily for a few seconds, and then stood up.  He leaned over
her, and put his lips to hers.  The moment that she parted her lips, he
squirted fluid into her mouth.


   "That's better," he said, and he knelt again.  He inserted three fingers
into her dripping vagina and began thrusting.  Continuing with his fingers,
he put his lips to her swollen clitoris and began to lick.


   * * *


   Babette's orgasm had barely subsided.  Leon stood up, holding his right
hand out horizontally.


   Babette opened her eyes.  "Aren't you going to continue?" she asked, her
eyes wide.

   "What are you doing?"


   "First clean my fingers," he said, reaching out.  Droplets dangled from
his curled down digits.  They dripped viscously onto her face.


   "Leon, you're so dirty!" she exclaimed, reddening.


   "Clean them," he repeated.


   "Oh, you . . .  Well all right."


   She drew his hand down and parted her lips.  She sucked each digit until
it was clean.


   "There, you brute!"she said, emitting a giggle; "Now, start licking!".


   * * *


   They heard the buzzer, but Leon ignored it.


   It sounded again.


   Babette sighed.  "I suppose we should answer it."


   He ignored her.


   The buzzer sounded again.  "Please, Leon," she said, raising her head.
"Please answer it."


   Leon sighed, and he stood up.  His genitals protruded, dangling, from
his pants.  Babette sat up, looked at them and giggled.  She slipped from
the bed and knelt on the carpet before him.  She grasped his penis and
kissed it.  Then she carefully replaced his balls and his semi-hard penis
in his trousers.  Finally, she zipped up his fly.


   "There," she said.  "I'll get dressed.  You answer the door."


   Leon went through the bedroom doorway.  He closed the door behind him,
traversed the living room, and opened the hall door.


   "Hello, Leon," Lindsey said.  "Is Babette in?"


   He looked at her.  Smooth, well-coiffed brown hair, large breasts, a
nice figure.  A pity she was a lesbian.


   "Yes, Lindsey.  She's dressing for dinner.  Come in.  Would you like a
drink?  I was just having some brandy," he said, displaying his empty
glass. Lindsey seated herself on the sofa.  She looked nervous.


   Evidently this isn't a social call.


   "Yes, I would.  Do you have any white wine?  I usually have some before
dinner."


   "Babette has the same preference.  I'll get some for each of you."


   Leon obtained goblets from the kitchen and removed a bottle from the
refrigerator.  He peeled off the foil and worked in the corkscrew.


   Interesting that they have the same habit.  Babette's a bi.  I wonder if
they were lovers last summer?


   As he brought in the two glasses, he explained, "She's switched from
Chardonnay to dry Riesling.  The American whites have gotten too sweet for
her."


   Lindsey didn't reply; she seemed preoccupied.  "Leon, would you mind if
I spoke to Babette in private?  I have something personal to discuss with
her."


   "Of course not.  I'll tell her."


   He went into the bedroom.  Babette was dressed but without her jewelry.
She was seated at the vanity, applying lipstick.


   "I heard Lindsey," she said.  "Would you tell her I'll be out in a few
minutes?  Perhaps she'd like to have dinner with us.  I don't think she
brought a friend along like she did last year."


   "I'll tell her.  She wants to speak to you about some private matter,
and she wants to be alone with you."


   He yawned.  "I feel rather drowsy.  If you don't mind, I'd like to take
a nap before dressing for dinner.  While you're talking with her, just be
sure the door is closed, so I can sleep."


   She smiled.  "You men are all the same.  As soon as you have an orgasm,
you want to doze off."


   * * *


   After serving the wine, Leon retired into the bedroom, closing the door
firmly behind him.


   The lens was over a sconce opposite the bed and close to the doorway
above the light switch.  Leon yawned again in view of the camera, and drew
down the bed coverings.  He patted his pillow and removed his bathrobe.  He
walked toward the light switch, tossed the robe over the sconce, and folded
enough of the hanging cloth over it to thoroughly block the lens.


   He immediately went to his briefcase and found the Sonbel, a device for
detecting conversations from a distance or through resonant surfaces like a
wall.  Its 'objective', an optical term that its manufacturer used for its
sound-gathering feature was metallic and in the form of a bell of about
four inches in diameter.  He walked to the light switch and flicked it,
extinguishing the overhead light.


   He felt his way to the wall separating the bedroom from the living room,
inserted the wired plugs into his ears, and pressed the bell against the
wall.


   " . . .  mind if we move to the kitchen, Babette?" he heard.


   "Why, Lindsey?  It's more comfortable here on the sofa.  Leon won't
disturb us; he's taking a nap."


   There was a long pause.  Perhaps each was sipping her wine.


   "I'm in serious trouble, Babette.  I couldn't think of anyone but you to
contact.  You've handled criminal cases.  Sometimes you have, anyway.  You
may have some advice as to what I should do."


   "Are you involved in something criminal, Lindsey?"


   Babette emitted a sound like a short laugh, or perhaps it was a gasp.


   "Lindsey, darling," she added; "this entire resort that Crane manages is
a criminal undertaking!  What in the world are you talking about?"


   "Are . . .  Are you sure that Leon can't hear us, Babette?  Can we go in
the kitchen, please?"


   "Why should Leon have any interest your problems?"


   "Well . . .  I don't know!  Do you trust him?  I mean, completely?"


   There was another pause.  "No.  I don't suppose that I do, Lindsey,
dear. There's a lot about Leon that I don't know.  All right, let's go in
the kitchen."


   He heard sounds of them moving.


   Shit.  Hmm.  I'll try the bathroom wall.  The plumbing for it must be
near to that for the kitchen.


   * * *


   AE33.doc (p.255-274)


   CHAPTER 33: Judith Visits the Training Center


   Judith was awakened by someone shaking her shoulder.  She turned on the
bunk, annoyed that she'd been awakened.  About to complain, she recalled
where she was, and she looked up.


   She saw woman looking down at her.


   "Hi!" the woman said; "I'm Donna, Donna Gromelski.  Is your name Judith?
Master Crane told me you were in Cell Eight.  You could really use a
shampoo and styling.  I don't have time to do it this evening, but maybe I
can do it tomorrow.  I'll comb it out for you while we're putting on your
makeup.  When you're dressed, we'll go to the bathroom down the hall for
that.  Crane wants you to join him for dinner tonight."


   "Hey, Donna!" Judith heard another woman's voice.  "Forget the gab.  Get
her ready!"


   Judith sat up, bleary-eyed.  She laid aside the four towels.


   The talkative woman was a chubby brunette with bobbed hair and a round
face, about thirty.  She was pretty and her figure, with a few less pounds
on it, would be voluptuous.


   "I'm Judith Sterling.  I came here with Senator Ellsworth.  Can you tell
me why I've been put in this little room?  I'm supposed to be in a suite
with him."


   Donna didn't reply, and Judith looked at the other woman.


   Now that she was awake, she recognized the girl.  It was Sarah, one of
the girls who had brought her from Crane's office.  The woman who had
awakened her was dressed in a blue button-down column dress like the one
that had been worn by that other girl, Nina.  Both Donna and Sarah wore tan
leather collars similar to the one about her own throat.


   Sarah smiled, and she said, "If you're going to dine with Master Crane,
I need to take off those things."


   While Sarah unlocked and removed her collar and handcuffs, Donna brought
a garment from one of the clothing hooks.


   It was a royal blue halter dress with spangles.  It seems that they
expected her to wear it without a brassiere.  When it was on her, the vee
neckline hem was well above the swellings of her breasts, but the material
was very sheer, apparently of silk or nylon and it outlined the contours of
her nipples and even showed their tint through it.


   "I knew it would fit you," Sarah said.  "We went through your clothes to
get your size."


   "Where did you find them?" Judith asked.  "Are they in my room--the room
in our suite?  Everything is confusing here!  No one has explained a thing
to me.  I'm supposed to be in a suite that I'm sharing with my--my
employer. He's a senator in the States.  I'm his attorney."


   Judith felt her face grow warm.  Perhaps she'd revealed more than she
should have.  The Senator had warned her not to disclose their relationship
outside of Washington.


   Donna raised her eyebrows.  Judith saw her glance at Sarah.  But the
younger girl just shrugged and replied, "You'll be dining with Master
Crane; you had better address your questions to him."


   Sarah reached into a satchel that lay on the opposite bunk.  She
withdrew a pair of stockings and pumps that were wrapped in plastic bags.
Judith recognized the shoes as her own.


   * * *


   The two women escorted Judith down the hallway to an elevator.  They
rode it up to the second floor and exited into a hall similar to the one
they had left, walked a dozen steps; and then entered through double
doorway marked 'Dining Hall' in gold lettering.


   The room was filled with tables that seat four, with cloth napkins and
silverware already set at each table.  A heavy black carpet containing gold
threads that produced attractive spiral patterns covered the room from wall
to wall.  High above, chandeliers illuminated the room with a soft light
from small bulbs.  The ceiling seemed very high.  Judith guessed that its
height was that of two floors: the second, on which they had entered, and
the third, above them.


   Judith noticed the wall murals.  Three of the four walls were covered
with paintings.  All three were parts of a single outdoor scene that
reminded Judith of paintings by Maxfield Parrish.  These murals had the
Greek temples and the bucolic scenery as well as the beautiful women. 
There the similarities ended, for all the women were nude and, along with a
few men, most were engaged in erotic activities that overlooked nothing. 
During her subsequent dinner with Crane, Judith observed every coupling
that she could imagine, including homoerotic and multi-partner ones.


   Crane's table was located at the opposite end of the room, the wall
which consisted entirely of windows.  Judith observed the ocean through it,
even before they were halfway to his table.  The sun was low over the
water, and the view was magnificent.


   There he is.  I'll ask him where the Senator is; and why he had me put
in that dungeon.

   Those girls must have done it on his orders.  And, why did they leave me
naked?  Perhaps they knew I'd be getting this gown.  I suppose that Crane
wanted to return those clothes that I borrowed from Yvonne on the ship. 
I'm really curious about this place.


   Crane turned to look at her, and Judith's heart began to race.  The
man's masculinity was sort of overwhelming.  He was dressed in loose dark
slacks and a white knit short-sleeved shirt.  His biceps looked like steel.
He resembled some athlete, a boxer or tennis pro and, when he rose from his
chair as she approached, he looked very smooth on his feet.


   His face was rugged rather than classic.  His look began to embarrass
her, and she looked about the room.  The waitresses, all wearing black and
white French maid uniforms, were extraordinarily attractive.  How did Crane
manage to get such gorgeous young women to work on such an isolated island,
away from cities and from young men?  Most of the men she passed seated at
the tables were considerably older than Judith, and the waitresses were
much younger than she.


   Crane was holding out a chair out for her.  Her seat was parallel to the
windows, opposite his.  "I thought you'd want to see the sunset," he said,
waving a hand at the windows.  Judith noticed a pair of women's sunglasses
on the table beside her tableware and a similar pair beside his.


   She smiled, raising them.  "I don't need these.  The sun is so red."


   "You will, in about half an hour," he said.


   He handed her a stapled sheaf of three typewritten sheets of paper. 
"Tonight's menu.  It's a bit primitive; we print the menus daily.  On an
island, it's necessary to dispense with some of the niceties.  By the way,
you look beautiful."


   She blushed.  "Thank you.  My hair is something of a mess."


   "It's to be expected, considering how you spent last night.  Actually,
it doesn't look bad.  When my salon staff is less busy, I'll have them do
your hair for you.  We're rather crowded at the moment; we've had quite an
influx of young women."


   She looked for her escorts.  But Donna and Sarah had disappeared.


   One of the girls dressed in a French maid's uniform approached.  She
wore a black blouse and skirt, a miniscule white apron and with a white cap
perched on her blonde head.  As the girl leaned forward, Judith could see
through the sheer black material of her blouse.  Although her nipples were
covered at the moment by the apron, she obviously lacked a bra.  Her
breasts were full and prominent.


   The girl poured them each a goblet of red wine and placed the bottle on
the table.  With a smile, she told Judith, "I'll give you time to make your
selections, Mistress, and I'll be right back." She left.


   Mistress?


   "Will you tell me now just what this place is?" Judith asked, indicating
the room and building with a motion of her head.  "It's more than just a
resort hotel."


   She wanted to say, 'Mister Crane, I know it's a sex club.  A friend of
mine belongs to one in San Francisco.  Am I right?' but suppose she were
wrong?  She'd be mortified.  She postponed her query.


   Crane shrugged.  "After we dine, I'll show you the most important room
in the Academy.  I'll explain your situation then."


   He told her a little about the climate in their location.  There were
occasional hurricanes, but the buildings were located high enough to
preclude flooding.


   * * *


   Crane looked up.  "Our waitress is back.  She'll take our orders."


   "I don't see any prices on the menus."


   "They're prix fixe," he said.  "All dinners are the same price.  But, in
any case, since I'm the manager, I won't be charged for our meal.  Don't
skimp."


   She ordered lobster.  Crane ordered a vegetarian dinner.  Although they
had consumed less than half of the bottle, Crane said to the girl, "Another
bottle of wine, please."


   "Yes, Master Crane," she responded.


   Judith raised her eyebrows.  Master?  Shades of the Gemini Club!  Maybe
that is what this place is!  Well, he said he'd explain after dinner; I
guess I'll wait.


   "How is the lobster?" he asked, as soon as she had finished cracking and
consuming a claw.


   "It's delicious," she said.  "You must have a fine chef!"


   "Yes.  He's good.  One of our French clients recommended him.  He's
expensive, but the fringe benefits that I offered him he found
irresistible."


   "Where is the Senator?" she asked.  Has he been looking for me?"


   "Before I answer your questions, I want to know more about you.  Tell me
about yourself."


   Christ, it's hard to get information from him.  If he's the manager of
this place, he has no boss.  Why is he so close-mouthed?  Does he think I'm
from some law enforcement agency?


   "If I do," she replied, annoyed; "will you tell me about you, and about
this 'Academy' as you call it?"


   "I told you that I would after . . .  "


   Suddenly they heard murmurs from other tables, all around them. 
Everyone seemed to be looking at Judith.  She became self-conscious,
wondering what was wrong with her appearance.


   Crane glanced at his wristwatch.  "Put on the sunglasses," he said.


   She glanced out the window.  A crescent had been cut from the sun's
disk.


   "It's an eclipse!" she exclaimed, thrilled.


   She wiped her hands and put on the glasses.


   "It's an annular one," he said.


   She frowned.  "A what?"


   "You're an attorney.  You must have taken Latin;."


   "Well," she said; "I think annular refers to a ring."


   "That's correct.  Wait and watch."


   It took several minutes, but finally the sun disappeared.  In its place
was a black disk surrounded by a ring of fire.


   "Wow!" she exclaimed.  Besides the thrill of the view, she felt turned
on by this strange man.


   "We're fortunate that it's over the water.  The moon is between us and
the sun, and it's at apogee, its farthest distance from us.  Its apparent
size is too small to cover the entire solar disk."


   "Thank you, Professor," she said, smiling.  "Where did you go to
college?"


   "I didn't.  I read a lot."


   * * *


   She had finished her lobster and the waitress removed their plates; at
the same time she left a finger bowl and a card containing a listing of
desserts.  Judith glanced at the latter.


   "What are you having?"


   "Just coffee, but I recommend the crepes suzette."


   After the waitress took their orders, Judith said, "You don't seem the
type to read.  At least not until you spouted off about the eclipse.  One
of those girls that I went downstairs with told me that you're always busy.
When do you find the time to read?"


   He shrugged.  "I don't require much sleep.  But, I was asking about you.
You're an attorney.  Where did you go to college?"


   "Berkeley," she replied.  "I grew up in Montana, in a town called
Kalispell.  You've probably never heard of it.  In high school I thought it
was the pits.  When I got to college, I met my best friend.  We used to go
to San Francisco a lot.  We loved the city."


   "Are your parents still in Montana?"


   "Mom and Dad still live in Kalispell.  I visit them every summer when
the Senate shuts down."


   He nodded.  "I recall that you came on the ship with the Senator."


   She blushed, catching his allusion to how he had found her, bound on the
floor of the cabin, naked.


   "I'm Senator Ellsworth's attorney," she explained, hoping to get off the
subject.  "He vacationed here last year.  Perhaps you've met him."


   "I know who he is," Crane responded.  "He's a very large prick."


   Judith laughed.


   "You're not alone in that opinion.  Some of his acquaintances in
Washington think the same thing.  The Senator can be abrasive, but he's
very influential in Washington, and also in our state.  I'm a resident
there.  I've been asked to fill a Congressional vacancy left by a
Representative who's retiring."


   "Since you're not wearing a ring, I presume that you're unmarried.  Are
you the Senator's mistress?"


   Judith blushed again.  She was especially upset by his inference being
so close to the mark.  She felt humiliated that he assumed she belonged to
a man over sixty.


   "That's a sexist term, Mister Crane," she replied.  "And, it's obsolete.
I don't sleep around.  Even if I did, it's no concern of yours!  If I
travel with Senator Ellsworth, it's part of my job.  What else I do is none
of your business."


   "On the contrary," he said, coolly.  "If you 'sleep around' as you put
it, it could change my plans for you."


   "Your plans for me!" she exclaimed, surprised.  "Do you imagine that
you're talking to some school child?!"


   His smile irritated her even more.


   "You're a well-educated young woman.  Surely you can guess the position
you're in here."


   What is he talking about?


   "It's about time, Mister Crane, that you should answer some of my
questions!  Where is Senator Ellsworth?  Why did those two girls put me in
that cell instead of an apartment?  Do you know that they left me in there,
naked?  Just what is this place?!"


   He shrugged.  "Please call me Crane for the time being, Judith. 
Evidently you don't believe your own eyes.  Think about the Senator's
recent actions toward you.  You must recall how Sarah and Kelly were
dressed.  And think about the accommodations they put you in."


   His words were chilling.  Judith didn't want to think of the
implications.


   She looked about the room.  It had become crowded.  Although there were
a number of other women in the room, dining as she was, many more of the
clientele were male.  Of the few women she saw, she saw only one looked as
young as she.  The only beautiful girls in the room were the waitresses,
the girls who were dressed in French Maid's attire.


   None of the men looked as young as she, either.  But then she noticed
two men at a table also adjacent to the windows, and she corrected herself.
One of them appeared to be in his twenties.  Still, he was by far the
youngest man.  Many, perhaps a third of the men, looked as old as the
Senator.


   Bill never said that the men at the Gemini Club were particularly old.
But here it's different.  To travel and stay out here for at least a week
when the cruise ship returns must take a lot of money.  Maybe that's why
there are so many old men here.  How can Crane pay women"especially ones as
attractive as these--enough to work out here on this remote island?


   As she glanced around the room, she counted five waitresses.  Each one
of them was beautiful enough to be a model.


   She saw Crane smile, and she wondered if he read her mind.


   "When we've finished dining," he told her; "I'll take you downstairs to
the T.C.  When you see it, you'll understand the purpose of the Academy."


   Judith had crepes suzette for dessert; Crane had coffee.  "You should be
fat," he said, evidently amused by her appetite.


   Judith saw his gaze lower; he was staring at her breasts.


   She felt a shiver go down her spine.  She was conscious of how bare they
were under the gown.  She'd not had access to a mirror except for the
ill-lighted one in the bathroom off the small room, and she wondered how
much he could see.  Compared to the breasts of the waitresses, though, hers
were small.  She didn't know why, but suddenly their size bothered her.


   Wanting to divert his thoughts, she replied, "I don't usually eat so
much, but the food here is so good!"


   Crane nodded.  "My clients are wealthy; they expect the food to be what
they're accustomed to."


   * * *


   They exited the elevator onto the lowest floor.  Judith didn't recognize
it at first, as they turned left and passed wooden double doors marked
'Power Plant' in bright brass lettering.  After this, she saw the line of
gray metal doors on both sides of the hallway.  She guessed that one of
them must be the door to the cell in which she'd spent most of the day.


   As they arrived about halfway down the hall, Judith heard strange, high
pitched muted sounds from somewhere ahead.  Accompanying the sounds were
louder ones that sounded a little like firecrackers exploding, although
these were also muted, sounding as though they were coming through some
closed door ahead of them.


   Following the last gray door on the right, they reached another set of
double wooden doors.  Above, marked in bright brass paint on a glass
transom, were the words 'Training Center'.


   The odd sounds were coming from within.  Crane, grabbing her arm, led
her through the doors.  The room was nearly as large as the Main
Lounge--the largest room in the building that she had yet seen.


   "Look around," Crane said mildly; "and tell me what you conclude about
what you see."


   As they stood in the doorway, Judith felt his grip on her arm, but she
was so shocked by the scene that she would have halted on her own had he
released her.


   Wooden racks, stocks, and pillories packed the room from wall to wall.
Each one of them held a young, beautiful, and naked girl, fastened to the
device by manacles clamped about her wrists and ankles.


   "Well?" he asked, meeting her eyes.  "What do you think is the purpose
of this room?"


   Judith flushed.  Her heart pounded.  She felt so appalled, that she had
stopped looking around the room after its first impact on her.


   "I-I hardly know what to think," she said.


   Despite her embarrassment, Judith forced herself to look around.  Close
to each wooden device and facing it were arranged a semicircle of
armchairs, most of which were occupied by more than a dozen spectators who
were enjoying the exhibition.  Among the audience she saw three women.


   As she stood with Crane in the doorway, there was one such group seated
directly before them.  It consisted of three men and one woman.  Two of the
men appeared to be in their fifties and one even older, with white hair and
a paunch.  The woman was of indeterminate age, but Judith guessed that she
might be in her fifties.  Her hair, perhaps dyed, was red and her figure
was shapely if slightly overweight.


   The girl who they were watching was a pretty blonde, about seventeen or
eighteen years old.  She was bent over a large sawhorse-shaped wooden rack,
her belly upon its ridge with her hands and feet on the carpet, her wrists
clamped in handcuffs bolted to its front legs and her ankles clamped in
ones at its rear ones.  Her body formed an inverted 'V', with her buttocks
the apex.


   A man stood behind her whipping her with a leather belt.  The girl was
crying, but a ball-gag was stuffed in her mouth, held by wide straps around
her cheeks and the back of her head, muting her cries.  Her sobs were the
sounds Judith had heard through the closed doors when she and Crane had
approached the room from the hall.


   The man must have been beating the girl for some time before they
entered, as the girl's buttocks were already marred by pink welts.  The man
brought the belt down methodically, starting from just below her coccyx and
working down to the crease between her buttocks and thighs, and covering
every inch between.


   "What's her problem, Duke?" Crane asked, leading Judith into the room.


   "The usual one we have with high school kids," Duke responded with a
shrug.  He pointed toward their right.


   Judith recognized one of the blue girls, Nina.  Wielding a glossy black
leather strap, Nina stood before a lineup of four naked men, each of whom
had his handcuffed wrists held over his head by a chain linking the
handcuffs to a hook in the ceiling.  Each male's legs were held wide apart
by a bar with manacles at each end that gripped his ankles.  Two of the
males looked to be in their mid-thirties, while the two others appeared
much younger, of high school age.


   One of the men suddenly shouted at Nina, "You bitch!  Why don't you stop
them!?"


   Judith watched, wondering how the girl would respond.


   The blue girl looked up at him and smiled.  Then she reached between the
man's legs.  She grasped his penis, which Judith thought was the largest
she had ever seen, and twisted.


   "Ow!  Let go, you bitch, let go!" the man cried.


   "That's not a proper response," Nina said, and she turned her wrist
further.  The man emitted another "Ow!!"


   "Apologize properly," Nina said in a cool voice.


   The man groaned.  Finally, capitulating, he said, "I'm sorry, Mistress!
Please, let go!"


   "Your wife isn't the only one who needs training," the blue girl
replied. "So do you."


   Holding his penis up against his navel, Nina reached out with the strap
until its end was just under the man's dangling testicles.  She flicked her
wrist, and the strap struck them.  It flung them outward, causing them to
swing up and carom off the hand that gripped his penis.


   "Ow!!" he exclaimed, grimacing and shuddering.


   "Apologize," Nina said.  She held the strap out again.


   "I'm sorry, Mistress!" the man cried, gasping.  "No more--please!"


   Nina asked, sweetly; "Will you be quiet now?"


   He seemed unable to respond, for several seconds.  Finally, he replied,
"Y-Yes, Mistress."


   "See how well your wife is learning.  She'll certainly please her
Master!"


   An angry expression crossed his countenance, but he responded, "Yes,
Mistress."


   Crane said to Duke, "Explain to Judith why the men are here in the T.C.
along with the females."


   "We have so many females to train," Duke said.  "that we're using the
males to help."


   He glanced at Crane, who nodded, and he told Judith, "We only use them
on inexperienced girls, ones around high school age.  In this shipment we
got four mature females, wives and an unmarried woman of about thirty or
so. Since those four are sexually experienced, we didn't need to whip them
a lot."


   "When will they be ready?" Crane asked.


   "I think that we can deliver them in just a few days, Boss."


   "What about the younger ones?  How long will they take?  No more than
three days, I hope."


   "I hope so, too, Boss.  But we never had so many before.  It complicates
our job.  It isn't just the number of them.  The five high school kids egg
each other on, and it's tough to keep them obedient.  They're gonna need a
lot more conditioning.


   "What about the two college girls?" Crane asked.  "How are they coming
along?"


   Duke pointed for Judith's benefit toward the girls being instructed by
the buxom blonde.


   "Not too bad, Crane.  Kelly's doing a good job on them.  I think by
tomorrow evening they'll be ready."


   "Having so many females to train presents problems," Crane told Judith.
"Duke and Kelly feel that they're overworked, and I'll have to do something
about that."


   Crane shrugged and gave her a smile.  "Personally, though, I can't
complain.  Twelve females brought me a financial bonanza.  Besides that,
they'll continue to provide me with entertainment until delivery."


   Judith felt nervous about asking, but her attorney's training got the
better of her.  "Just what is it that you mean by 'entertainment', Mister
Crane?"


   Crane smiled.  "Just call me Crane, Judith.  I'm sure you know the type
of entertainment that I mean.  The type that we're training them to provide
for my clients."


   He turned back to Duke.


   "What about the blonde on the rack?" Crane asked.  "What's her problem?"


   Duke shrugged.  "She won't take a cock in her mouth.  She keeps her
teeth closed."


   "What about the other high school girls?  Are they more pliable?"


   "Well," Duke replied; "We've gotten Cheryl's friend Denise, and the
Rivers girl, Patty, to give head.  Unfortunately, as soon as a client comes
down to watch, they get inhibited.  None of them is anywhere close to being
able to satisfy a client."


   "They'll get accustomed to spectators if we can rent them for a few
parties," Crane said.  "What about the youngest female, the fifteen year
old?  I've forgotten her name."


   "Kathleen, Boss.  The girls call her Kathy.  When she first got here,
Nina had to give her a good whipping to get her to do anything.  But, it
turned out that she wasn't as much trouble as we expected.  She really
turned around when she saw all the married women giving beejays.  I suppose
she decided that giving head was better than a whipping."


   He looked toward the four males and smiled.  "Kathy is still at it," he
exclaimed.  "Maybe she's starting to enjoy it.  Would you like to watch,
Mistress Judith?"


   "She'll watch," Crane responded for her, and he took her arm.


   Duke led the way.  They had to pass by the two girls who were being
supervised by the buxom blue girl.


   Duke stopped them.


   "Boss," Duke said, "Maybe Mistress Judith would be interested in these
two, before we watch Kathy."


   Crane nodded.  "Yes.  Take a look at them, Judith."


   Judith looked at the two girls, her heart pounding.  She could feel
herself blushing.


   My god!  What is this place that the Senator brought me to?


   Robyn was naked and collarless.


   Her legs were held apart by a long bar, her ankles gripped by fetters at
its ends.  Her wrists were handcuffed behind her back and a taut chain from
the ceiling was attached to the link between the cuffs, compelling the girl
to bend forward at the hips.  It forced her to lean so far that her
shoulders were as low as her knees and kept her handcuffed wrists above her
bare buttocks.  Her long black hair hung down over her head, with its last
few inches lying on the carpet.


   It seemed that her head was virtually the only part of her body that she
could move without discomfort.


   Mia, who was standing before her, wore a collar, and around her waist
and groin were straps of a harness from which a dildo projected.  It
duplicated a man's genitals perfectly and appeared to be made of rubber
since, when Mia stepped forward or back, the shaft flexed slightly and
swung the pendulous oversized balls that dangled below it.


   "Tell her!" Kelly ordered.  She brought the whip across Mia's bare
buttocks with a vicious blow that made the girl emit a loud "Ow!" and left
a pink stripe across them.


   Judith thought that Kelly was speaking an order to Mia, but the
black-haired girl replied.


   She craned her neck to look up at her friend.  "I'm sorry, Mia!" she
cried out; "I have to say what she . . .  "


   Kelly swung the whip and struck Mia's buttocks again.  Like a long black
snake, it encircled her hips and left a second stripe parallel to the
first. Kelly again drew her arm back.  This time she enhanced its blow just
before striking with a flick of her wrist.  Its end struck Mia's buttocks
with a loud, firecracker-like report and knocked the girl off-balance.


   Judith expected to see her fall onto the carpet on her face.


   Instead, Kelly thrust out her hand and caught the chain at the back of
Mia's collar.  She jerked Mia back up by it.


   "Please, Mistress," Robyn cried.  "Stop whipping her!  I-I'll say what
you want."


   "Say it!" Kelly ordered impatiently.  She swung the whip in an
upward-angled arc, that impacted Mia's striped buttocks from below, causing
the girl to emit a loud 'ow!'


   "I'll say it, Mistress!" Robyn cried.  "Please stop!"


   Kelly halted her swing, but she kept her arm ready.


   "Say it, slut!"


   Robyn raised her head.  Blushing, she stuttered, "M-Master, l-let me
s-suck . . .  your cock.  C-Come in my mouth, Master, p-please!"


   "That's better," Kelly said.  Each morning, when your Master appears,
that's how you'll greet him.  Understand?"


   "Y-Yes, Mistress," Robyn replied.


   Kelly said to Mia; "Do it!"


   "Y-Yes, Mistress," Mia replied.


   She moved closer to Robyn and, even after she bumped her friend's
forehead with the outthrust dildo, she continued to move forward.  The
rubber phallus went under Robyn's face and lay pressed up against her
cheek.


   "What do you say?" Kelly asked sweetly, raising the whip.


   Mia drew in a deep breath.  Blushing, she said, "H-Here's your
b-breakfast, Slut."


   Robyn opened her mouth, wide.  She took the dildo between her lips and
began moving her head up and down upon it.


   Kelly looked satisfied.


   The trio who had come up behind her watched.  Robyn licked the balls,
nibbled the head, and performed other oral operations on the rubber organs.
Periodically, when Kelly motioned with the whip, Mia told her friend, "You
like this, don't you, you slut!"


   If wasn't at the moment in her mouth, Robyn replied with a "Yes,
Master," or if it was, with a nod.  Saliva trickled from her mouth.  Unable
to wipe her face, she occasionally shook her head, flinging droplets from
her chin and lower lip.


   Kelly noticed Judith and the two men.


   "Good evening Master," she said.


   "Good evening, Kelly.  This is Judith."


   Kelly turned, to face Judith.  "Good evening, Mistress," she said, and
she curtsied.


   "Good evening," Judith responded.  Kelly's subservience alleviated her
embarrassment to some extent; the girl seemed totally unaware of Judith's
discomfort at watching the scene, as if women frequently appeared in the
T.C.  to observe.


   "Robyn," Kelly ordered, "Greet Mistress Judith."


   The brunette awkwardly raised her head as much as was possible in her
bent over position.  "H-Hello, Mistress Judith," she said.


   Duke explained, "You see, Mistress, with just six males to work with, we
have to limit our use of them."


   "Duke," Crane interrupted, "I told you to involve the clients!" Judith
thought he sounded annoyed.  "I have no objection to you using these girls
to train each other, but it ties up Kelly in supervising.  Use the clients!


   "Most of them," Crane continued; "would jump at a chance to train new
girls.  Look at the audience we get in here!  Clients constantly offer
suggestions.  If you use clients to help, we could train several more
females without hiring more staff.  If you asked them, I think even some of
the women clients would enjoy the chance to train a young girl."


   Duke protested.  "But, we are using clients, Boss."


   He pointed across the room, where Judith observed a beautiful woman who
was fastened in a device that looked a bit like a pillory that she had seen
in Colonial Williamsburg, except that this one was more ornate and of
highly finished wood.  The woman's head protruded from the center and her
hands from the side ones of the three holes in the front clamp.  Two
manacles at its base gripped her ankles and held her legs widely spread
apart.


   Two men were using her as she bent over, helpless in the device.


   "That's Anne DuPr�."


   He paused, evidently expecting her to recognize the name.


   "I guess you don't know the big swimsuit models.  Take a good look at
her face.  If your husband gets a men's magazine, you'll find her in one of
the centerfolds for this year.  She's been in all the men's magazines."


   He pointed across the room to the row of naked, manacled men.


   "See the guy with brown hair, near the wall?  That's Jerry.  He's Anne
DuPr�'s husband.  Look at the size of his cock.  There's no way that any
female could suck on that monster!


   "He spent most of today watching the new females practice giving beejays
on the other guys.  On top of that," Duke said, laughing; "for the last
hour he's had to watch two clients give it to his wife.  Look at the job
the guy in front is doing on her!"


   Anne's dark brown, nearly black hair had probably been well-coiffured on
entering the T.C., but the actions of the man standing in front of her had
disheveled her hair.  Now it was impossible to tell.  Her face was
beautiful, and her figure voluptuous, with its narrow waist, large breasts,
and curvaceous hips and buttocks.


   The man standing in front of her was athletic-looking, and about
thirty-five years of age.  Judith presumed that he was one of the clients
that Crane had mentioned wanting to aid in 'training'.  Well-dressed, he
was attired in a pale gray business suit that looked tailored to fit his
trim frame.


   In his right hand he gripped a fistful of her hair like a thick rope,
holding her head up by it.  His penis, protruding from his fly, was stuffed
in her mouth.  His left hand held the back of her head while he drove his
organ forward and back.  He shoved it in so deeply that, at the end of each
thrust, as his abdomen struck her face and covered it with the cloth of his
trousers, she gagged.


   The man behind her was younger, perhaps twenty-five or so.  He was slim.
Wearing glasses, he looked scholarly, and was dressed informally in jeans
and a tee shirt.  Judith thought his fine features bore some resemblance to
those of the older man.


   He half-crouched behind the brunette, his arms wrapped around her waist.
His hands reached below her navel, upon her muff.  Judith was too far from
him to see his hands well, but she could see that his fingers were moving;
she couldn't see his fingertips and she supposed they were between her
labia, fingering her.


   Judith could see the shaft of his organ, which like his partner's,
protruded from his open fly, as he moved it slowly forward, causing it to
disappear and then back, causing it to reappear.  He moved his hips in a
slow, corkscrew-like motion, his eyes closed and his expression one of
extreme pleasure as he enjoyed her between the buttocks.


   Anne's back, as she bent forward from the hips, was horizontal.  Her
pendulous breasts, pointing down toward the floor, swung forward and back
when the exertions of the two men were in phase, as one thrust and the
other withdrew.  When the two men thrust simultaneously, they jiggled
violently.


   The younger man saw Judith looking at him, and he looked away,
apparently embarrassed.


   The older man noticed his reaction and glanced in Judith's direction. 
She heard him laugh.  He said, "You don't mind the audience, do you,
Albert? You shouldn't.  It's nothing new to the clients; they've seen it
all."


   The older man, who was holding Anne's head, looked down at the brunette
and moved her head slightly, to keep it in a position that suited the angle
of his thrust.  After a few moments he looked back at Judith and smiled at
her.  Judith felt her face grow warm.


   "I'm not sure about her."


   "Who?" the younger one replied.


   "That pretty client who just came in with Crane," the man said.


   To Judith's further embarrassment, he called out to her, "I saw you on
the ship, Miss.  I didn't see you here last year.  Is this your first
vacation here?"

   Judith didn't know what to reply.  Her face hot, she gave the man a
slight nod.  To hide her embarrassment, she pretended an interest in what
Duke and Crane were saying.


   Nevertheless, she heard the younger man say, "I don't like all the
people watching."


   Surprised, considering what he was doing, Judith looked back.


   His companion said, "You will, once you're here a few days."


   He pulled his organ, glistening with saliva, from Anne's mouth.  The
brunette gasped, and she drew in several deep breaths.  Hugo, holding the
rope of Anne's hair, forced her head up.


   "Ow!" the woman cried, "Please, that hurts!"


   Gripping her hair in his fist, he slapped her face, hard, leaving a red
mark on her cheek.  "Only speak when your Master gives you permission," he
said.  "Understand?"


   "Y-Yes, Master," Anne responded.


   He grinned, still holding her head up so high that it appeared to be a
very uncomfortable position.  Judith could see the length of Anne's throat,
from her chin to where it went through the hole in the pillory.


   "Look at Anne DuPre, world-famous model!" he said.  "I'm fucking her in
the mouth and Albert's fucking her in the ass.  Getting to watch her is her
husband and all the girls and women who she met on the cruise ship."


   Continuing to hold her by the hair, he caressed her bruised cheek with
the palm that had slapped it.  He asked, "But you don't mind, do you?  Not
as long as I let you enjoy my prick.  You adore sucking it, don't you?"


   She shook her head.  Barely able to speak, she choked out, "N-No."


   He slapped her other cheek, using the back of his hand.  She now had red
marks on both cheeks.


   He spoke in what Judith thought was a surprisingly mild tone after the
hard slaps.


   "'Yes' is your only response to a Master.  And always thank him after he
punishes you."


   He released her hair, and with relief, she lowered her head, turning it
from side to side.


   However, Hugo reached with both hands under the wooden clamp, groping.
Although it was impossible for Judith to see exactly what he was doing, she
assumed that he had grasped her breasts.


   "Ow!" she exclaimed.  "Please"that hurts!"


   "Well?" he asked.


   "Ow!!" she repeated, her face distorted in pain.  "I-I don't know what
you w-want me to say," she stuttered.


   Judith saw his arms move.


   "Ow!!  Please!" she exclaimed; "Please stop twisting!"


   "What did I just tell you?" he asked.


   "I-I . . .  to thank you?"


   "Yes."


   "Ow!!  Ow!!" she cried; "Th-Thank you, Master.  Thank you!"


   "You're welcome, slave," he said.  "Open your mouth again.  This time
you'll do the work.  I'll just stand while you suck my penis.  I intend to
come in your mouth.  Would you like that?"


   "Uh . . .  Uh," she stuttered, her face red again.  "Y-Yes, Master."


   "Good." He rested his hands on the wood clamp and moved his hips forward
until the head of his penis touched her lips.  "Suck," he said, "and take
your supper."


   Blushing, Anne parted her lips.  She began to suck it, working it with
her lips and tongue.  After about a minute, she began to move her head up
and down, sliding her lips along the length of the again glistening shaft.


   Kelly said, "Even if she can't do it for her husband, she knows what
she's doing."


   Duke said, "Well, Jesus, Kelly--she should!  She must be at least
thirty. She probably fucked a dozen guys before she got married.  She
pretends she doesn't like it, but I bet she loves sucking cock.  She
probably hasn't since she got married."


   Kelly turned to Judith.  "Those two men are brothers.  I remember the
older one from last year.  He's a friend of Crane.  His younger brother is
here for the first time this year; I think he just graduated from college.
He's kind of cute.  Actually, they both are."


   Duke told Crane, "When they came down this afternoon, I asked them if
they would help us train a female.  Since there were two of them, I figured
they could work on a more experienced female.  I was afraid that Albert
wouldn't help us out.  He didn't want to fuck her in the ass; at least he
said he didn't.  I explained how we train the older women, and told him
that, if he wanted to help, it had to be either her mouth or her ass."


   Crane replied, "If he was so against it, why didn't you let him use her
mouth?"


   Kelly interjected.  "He wanted to use her mouth, but so did his older
brother."


   Duke nodded.  "That's right, Crane.  Hugo had a real hard-on for her
mouth.  The kid didn't have much choice.  It was her ass or nothing."


   Crane shrugged.  "You did the right thing.  Hugo pays their bill. 
Whatever Hugo wants to do while he's here, let him do."


   Kelly told Judith, "We don't waste time making a married woman do
vanilla stuff, not unless it's a double, like Anne's doing."


   "Or a triple," Duke amended.


   Crane looked about the room.


   "Where are the other six females?" he asked.  His tone sounded critical.
"And, where are the other males?  I don't want the females stored in cells.
We have clients who will pay to use them.  At the very least put the
females in the Executive Lounge.  Better yet, rent them."


   "Jesus, Boss, we're doing the best we can with the people we have.  When
those brothers are done with Mrs.  DuPre, I'll put her in the E.L.  That
will make room in here for another female."


   Crane again looked around the room.  "I don't see the two big-titted
young blondes," he said; "Holly and . . .  " He paused.  "I've forgotten
the other one's name, the younger one."


   "Lyons, Boss.  Jane Lyons.  Rita and George rented them both.  Rita
wanted Sheila Ericson, but I told her you gave orders not to rent her.  She
really caused a fuss."


   Kelly exclaimed, "Rita's a bitch.  I hate her!"


   "Shut up, Kelly!" Crane said.  "She's a client.  I don't want you or any
other slaves talking in that manner about a Mistress.  Anyway, I know about
Rita's propensities.  She bought two males, Sheila's husband and Bill
Derrick.  Rita never buys females.  I'm not sure what she's up to, renting
the girl friend of one of the males and trying to rent the wife of the
other one that she bought.  Duke, I hope you warned her to be easy on the
females.  She doesn't own them."


   "Oh, I told her all right, Boss.  But, you know Rita, she doesn't take
to orders from others.  I told her, but she wouldn't promise anything."


   "How long did Rita and George rent them for?"


   "Two days, Boss."


   "She must want them for the party tonight, expecting it to last into
tomorrow morning.  She sent me an invitation."


   "What about George, her boyfriend?" Crane asked.  "As I recall, he
bought some big-titted girl.  Is the girl up there, too?"


   Kelly responded, "He bought Robyn, Master Crane.  I told Rita that she
was down here being trained.  Rita didn't care about Robyn.  For some
reason she only wanted the females who came with the two guys she bought,
Bill Derrick and Ed Ericson.


   "Knowing Rita, I'll bet that she thought it would be a blast to let her
party guests have their fun with the two girls while Jane's boy friend and
Sheila's husband have to watch.  That's probably why she was so pissed when
Duke wouldn't rent Sheila to her."


   "I'm not interested in your theories, Kelly," Crane replied.


   "Master Crane," Kelly retorted; "When we bring Jane and Holly back from
the party tomorrow, you'll be lucky if all they have are sore asses and
swollen tits."


   * * *


   AE34.doc (pp.  275-292)


   CHAPTER 34: The Senator Abuses Lindsey


   Ellsworth enjoyed a light breakfast in the Coffee Shop.  He preferred it
to the Restaurant since there were always a few of the attractive blue
girls in the Coffee Shop.  At this hour the Restaurant would be sparsely
occupied; not only that, but the occupants would probably be solely male.
Here, besides the blue girls, he sometimes found a female slave in the
room, an incidental bonus for him if her trainer stopped for a cup of
coffee on his way to the T.C.


   The slave's escort usually sat at the counter, nursing a cup of coffee,
while the slave was obliged to kneel beside him on the floor like a pet
dog, the loop of her leash clipped to his belt.  The Senator was delighted
whenever he found a slave there and, if a seat close to her happened to be
vacant, he took it.  If not, he usually chose a booth, from where he could
look over her figure.  Despite his dislike of Crane, Ellsworth conceded
that the manager of this resort did keep the desires of his guests in mind.
The attire of his captives was always transparent and thin enough to reward
Ellsworth's effort to rise as early as the trainers and break his fast in
the Coffee Shop.


   This morning he found the buxom blonde girl Kelly seated at the counter,
and he took a stool beside her.  Ellsworth liked her figure, even though a
number of the male clients considered her somewhat overweight.  The column
dress that she wore regrettably smoothed out the contours of her tits and
ass somewhat, but the bumps of her tits, at least, were visible through it.
Besides, they were ample enough for him enjoy viewing them anyway.  As for
what he couldn't see, he knew the video tape of her escapade with Lindsey
virtually by heart.  She had big tits; he would bet that they were D cup.
The weight she had put on since recording the tape certainly wouldn't have
reduced their dimensions.


   Kelly's face was rounded, and he thought she looked a bit na�ve with her
turned-up nose and pink cheeks.  Her shoulder length hair was a dirty
blond. Ellsworth didn't like it much.  Certainly nowhere near as much as he
did the dark gold and long tresses of her hair as it had been when the tape
had been recorded.  That had been nearly two years ago, before she'd
obtained a position as a blue girl.  He supposed that dyeing it now would
have added more hours to her already long days.


   She had finished her second cup of coffee, and she put down her cup,
slid from the stool, and headed toward the doorway.  The Senator followed
the undulations of her hips until she exited.


   Before my stay here ends, I'll find a way to fuck her.


   The Senator finished his fourth chocolate donut, washed it down with the
last of his coffee, and stood up.  He had orders for the female cosmetics
executive.  He supposed she would still be in bed; female clients usually
slept late.  He'd enjoy awakening her.  There was no advantage in courtesy,
no more than there had been toward Judith during his last day on the ship.
He thought then of his former aide.  Crane hadn't included her in the
auction for some reason.


   Crane evidently intends to cheat me.  We agreed to split the amount
she's sold for.  Maybe she won't sell for his ten grand floor bid, but she
could.  If I grill him, he'll invent reasons that it's necessary to put off
her auction until I have to return to Washington.  That won't do.


   In any case he wanted to find out where Judith was.  If she were already
in a cell, it would be amusing to visit her.  Presumably, like the other
females stored in those basement cells, her hands would be manacled and she
would be naked.  He could do whatever he liked with her and, if Crane
hadn't yet informed her that she'd been sold into slavery, she would be
especially unprepared for the abuse that he had in mind for her.


   The Senator hummed as he rode the elevator up to the third floor.


   The view through the clear glass this morning was magnificent.  He could
see fringes of the jungle to the north and the south.  The dark blue of the
sea was decorated with sparkling flashes from the sun behind him.  It
reflected off the waves.


   Although Ellsworth disliked Crane, he admitted that the man had taste.
Taste in women, of course; that was his forte.  But also in the other
luxuries that made Ellsworth's vacations on the island so satisfying.  This
view was evidence of that.


   Then there were the ingenious racks that he had glimpsed yesterday,
downstairs in the Machine Shop.  The designs showed considerable foresight,
and he'd seen ones that hadn't existed last year.  In some, a girl could be
mounted in a way that gripped only her wrists and ankles and which provided
her abuser with access to every sensitive part of her anatomy.  He tried to
imagine all of the ways in a girl could be sexually manipulated when
mounted in them.  It made his head swim.


   The elevator stopped at 3.  He exited and headed down the hallway, eager
to see the lesbian.


   He hoped Madame LeBeau would be asleep; it would be a pleasure to jar
her awake with his knock.


   Threatening to send the tape of her to the media and her rivals in Paris
had compelled her to successfully bid for Crane's most expensive slave,
Sheila Ericson.  She was a young housewife, and her husband had been taken
by Crane's men also.  He smiled.  He could hardly wait to begin working on
her.  He'd like to find out who had purchased her husband.  A party
featuring the two of them should draw a record number of guests.


   He chuckled aloud.  All he'd paid for the tape was a paltry one hundred
dollars.  Although the amount was negligible; it was a matter of principle
to recoup from Madame LeBeau the money he had spent for the tape.


   His success with the cosmetics executive was an incentive to apply the
same tactic to acquire power over other female clients.  For that,
cooperation by the young guard Miguel would be necessary, but the boy had
already displayed some turpitude.  It would be easy to push him deeper in
the mire.  He could afford to offer him far more than the paltry one
hundred that he'd given for Lindsey's tape.  After all, it would be the
LeBeau woman's money.


   As for Lindsey, he supposed that she would eventually run dry of her
savings, but that needn't be a serious concern.  If he were adroit enough,
by then he would have other sources of funds.  As for the fate of the
lesbian, she could still be of use by servicing him with her body.


   His phone call to her last night indicated that she was still going to
be obstinate.  He would deal with that this morning.


   There were practical matters to consider.


   I'll direct her to rent a couple of racks, one for her and one for the
blonde.


   He'd overheard Rita talking with one of the other female clients about
Crane's own slaves.  Evidently the man kept three females in his suite.  He
kept all three of them mounted; so they were available for his use at any
time, day or night.  Unlike the rented slaves that clients used at parties,
which were used principally to entertain guests, Crane's slaves were for
his personal use.  He never put on parties.


   Listening to the two women, Ellsworth found the idea highly attractive.
Much as he disliked Crane, Ellsworth had to admit that it was another
indication of the man's taste.  Perhaps he'd have Lindsey order a third
rack so that, when his plans ripened, he would have a ready location for a
third female.  At present, he couldn't judge as to whether it would be
another slave, which the cosmetics executive would purchase for him or,
perhaps another female client.  He'd decide that later.


   He walked briskly down the corridor.  He'd mount Madame LeBeau on an 'A'
frame in Lindsey's bedroom.  She would have to watch him amuse himself with
the blonde in her own bed.  He'd have Sheila to ride him astride, taking
his cock up her ass.


   He reached apartment 333, and he knocked.  There was no response.  He
knocked again, more loudly.


   "Oui.  Ou est la?" Her sleepy voice elicited a smile from the Senator.


   "Senator Prescott Ellsworth!"


   He imagined her dismay at hearing his voice.  After the auction and her
purchase of the blonde, the Senator had allowed her to stew for several
days.  Perhaps her hopes had been raised when he didn't return to her
apartment on the day following his abuse of her.  She may have hoped that
her purchase of Sheila would complete her obligation to him.


   His telephone call to her early last night must have dashed those hopes.


   Lindsey opened the door, but no further than the width of her head.  Her
height was a foot less than his, and her brown hair was level with his
chest.  She was compelled to look up to meet his eyes.


   "Senator, she said, coldly, "we have nothing to discuss.  You'll have
the blonde as soon as Crane's staff have trained her.  They'll deliver her
here, and I'll turn her over to you.  You took advantage of me when you
were here last time, but it won't happen again.  Kindly leave.  I am not
going to allow you into my apartment again."


   She wore a satin bathrobe, the same one that she had worn the first time
he'd visited her, but this time she had drawn the slide fastener all the
way up to her collar.  It completely concealed those ample breasts.


   Ellsworth pushed with the flat of his large hand.  Lindsey's strength
was insufficient to even slow him, and he easily forced the door open.  The
moment that he entered, he encircled her waist with an arm.


   "Senator, release me!" Lindsey exclaimed, pushing him with her hand.  "I
want you out, right now!"


   Instead, Ellsworth pulled her against him.  He felt the warmth of her
body through their clothing.  His cock began to harden.


   "I had to see you again, my Dear," he said, looking down at her; "all of
you.  Why are you wearing that robe?  Surely you recall how annoyed I was
when you wore a bathing suit to the beach?"


   She reddened.  Despite her controlled words, her tone was angry. 
"Senator, release me immediately!"


   She struggled to pull from his grip.  She was unable to move his arm
away, even slightly.


   She looked up again and said, "If you don't leave now, Senator, I'm
going to Crane.  He isn't one whit concerned about your so-called
'influence'.  If I have to resort to that, you'll regret it!"


   Grinning down at her, he replied, "Lindsey, you haven't dreamed of all
that you're going to do for me.  What you provided me with last time was
only a sample."


   He pulled her closer, until her left breast squashed against his shirt.
Holding her, he reached for the other swelling.  Its crest was crowned by a
quarter inch bump in the satin.  He grasped it between his thumb and
forefinger.


   She's naked under this!


   The Senator grasped the tab of her zipper and drew it down as far as the
bump.  When her garment gaped open, he inserted his fat hand into it.  He
grasped her bare breast and pulled it out until it protruded, overhanging
the closed portion of the zipper.


   Her breast was weighty, even for his large hand, and his fingers
couldn't entirely enclose it.  He grasped the nipple between his forefinger
and thumb.  He treated it like a miniature rolling pin, his kneading
fingers working it one way, then the other.


   "Stop it Senator," she cried, reddening and trying to pull from him. 
"Let me go!"


   She grabbed his fingers with her much smaller hands.  She attempted to
pry them from her nipple.  Ellsworth stopped moving his fingers.  He
squeezed it..


   "Ow!  Damn you--let go!"


   "Lindsey, you disappoint me.  You promised to cooperate.  However, I
came prepared for your defaulting on our agreement.  I have an option that
will interest you.  Once you hear it, you'll adhere to your promise."


   His arm was still about her waist, and the sole results of her
unsuccessful struggles to pull free was to cause the fastener to slide
down, undo her sash, and for her garment to come open.  Ellsworth ignored
her long crimson nails, which she was digging into his hand.  He grasped
the entire body of her breast with his other four fingers, and he squeezed.


   "Ow!!" she exclaimed.  "Stop, stop it!--you bastard!  Ow!!  All right!
Please, I'll cooperate!"


   Pleased by her reaction, Ellsworth continued to squeeze.


   "Please!  Please!" she cried, both of her hands prying at his squeezing
fingers; "I'll do whatever you want!  Please stop!"


   Finally, he released it.


   "You're insincere, Lindsey.  You're agreeing only in order to get me to
leave your apartment.  It won't work.  I'm invoking my option."


   "What?" she said, gasping.  She pulled a lapel of her robe over her
breast.  The zipper had come completely undone and she hastily pulled the
sash together in a slapdash fashion, leaving it still unknotted.


   "Option?  What option?  What are you talking about?"


   Ellsworth grinned.  "Last night, I told you to come up to my suite for
your second cocksucking lesson, but you never appeared.  I suspected that
you would defect, Madame.  Today I came prepared."


   "I never promised to do that, you know very well that I didn't, Senator!
There's no way that I'd do such a thing.  What you made me do last time was
unbelievably disgusting.  After you left, I felt ill just from thinking
about it."


   She shuddered, disturbed by the recollection.


   "When you phoned last evening, I couldn't believe what you were saying--
ordering me to come upstairs and-and spend the night doing that!  I knew
very well that you called me solely because you're a sadist.  That was
typical of you.  Well, you succeeded in ruining my evening; I couldn't
sleep all last night.  Don't pretend that you were serious."

   .

   Ellsworth shrugged.  "I was.  However, I knew you would be recalcitrant,
and this morning I came expecting you to default on our agreement."


   "Senator, I bid on that blonde girl, and I obtained her for you.  She's
now being trained.  As soon as she's delivered to me, I'll turn her over to
you.  I've held up my end of our agreement.  Now, you give me all of the
tapes."


   "If you recall," Ellsworth countered; "all that I agreed to was not to
send copies of your cunt-licking video to your friends and co-executives in
Paris."


   Lindsey flushed.  "There's no need for you to be crude!"


   His voice dripping with sarcasm, he said, "I'm sorry if I've shocked
your refined sensibilities, Madame.  Through inquiries, I've learned that,
virtually every night, you have a different one of Crane's pretty slaves
between your legs, with her tongue in your cunt.  Now you claim that
hearing the word shocks you!"


   Obviously wanting to end the topic, she repeated, "I expect you to give
me all the copies of the tape!"


   "I thought it likely that you'd recant on our deal," Ellsworth said.  "I
came prepared for that eventuality.  You'll be interested in learning that
I made more copies of it; twelve, to be exact.  I intend to market those
copies to my male acquaintances here.  I'm sure, Madame, that after those
other male clients here have seen your activities on it, they'll have the
same reaction as I had"they'll be eager to see more of you.


   She stared up at him, looking stunned.


   Her voice quavering, she said, "You promised that-that you'd give me the
tapes if I bought the blonde for you.  If you don't give them to me, then I
won't turn her over to you."


   He grinned.  "Then I'll sell all of my copies here first.  I'll send
more to Paris after I return to Washington.  You'll be completely ruined,
disgraced."


   Ellsworth faked a yawn.  "Well, I hope you have enough saved to live on
for the rest of your life, Madame.  It will be a long while to be
unemployed.


   "There's no point in continuing this discussion," he said.  He turned
and grasped the doorknob.  "John and Henry are leaving soon on Yvonne's
ship.  Since there isn't much time, I'll take them their copies now."


   He opened the door.  Lindsey, who was re-doing the sash of her robe,
suddenly realized that he was leaving.


   "No!" she exclaimed.  She thrust out a hand and grasped his wrist.


   Her robe came open, but she ignored or didn't notice it, and Ellsworth
was provided with a full frontal view of her naked figure.  He licked his
lips and stared at her bare breasts.  His penis, which had already grown
hard, now felt like a rod of steel.


   She looked up at him, her face distorted with anger.  "This is more
blackmail, you bastard!"


   He didn't respond, staring at them and then down at her shaved pubis. 
Lindsey, puzzled by his lack of response, finally noticed why he'd become
silent.  She pulled her robe closed.


   "Please be reasonable, Senator--you want to sell them to those men for
the money.  Well, let me buy them from you, all of . . .  "


   She suddenly stopped, frowning.  "Why am I bothering to beg you?  I'm
being foolish.  Blackmailers never relinquish their leverage over their
victims, do they, Senator?  You'll never sell me all of them.  I was
allowing my emotions to cloud my sense.  I don't suppose that you intend to
ruin me.  You want me to keep paying, indefinitely.  Well, tell me, how
much do you want right now?"


   He shrugged.  "Actually, I'm not that much concerned about the money. 
You're correct in assuming that, whenever I want it, I'll contact you and
you'll provide me with it.  I agreed not to send the tape to Paris.  As for
the copies, your money won't buy them."


   "B-But," she protested; "I thought that Sheila was your fee for not
sending them to Paris."


   He didn't respond, but turned toward the door.


   Lindsey again grasped his arm.  "I see that you want more than money,"
she said.  In a tone dripping sarcasm, she continued, "if money won't buy
those tapes from you, Senator, what will?  Just what do I have to do to
keep you from giving them to your male friends here?"


   He shrugged.  "One thing, Madame.  But, you're not capable of it."


   He looked down at her, confidently awaiting her reply.


   "You underestimate me, Senator.  Do you imagine that I've become vice
president in our firm through being a nice young woman?  I've gotten where
I am through hard efforts.  Few women would have done all that I have. 
I've done unpleasant things; more, perhaps, than you can imagine.  Whatever
this 'thing' is that I need to do, I'm quite certain that I'm capable of
it."


   "Indeed?" he said, mockingly.  "Perhaps you think you are, but I doubt
that you'll do what I want for the tapes."


   "Tell me what your price is, Senator.  I'm capable of paying it."


   He kept his countenance impassive.  Eventually he would gloat at her
humiliation; but that would come later.  First she had to understand what
he wanted.


   Ellsworth shook his head.  "You don't have the guts, Madame."


   "I just told you that I did!" she said, exasperated.  "What is it that
you want for the tapes?  I know what a bastard you are, Senator, it won't
be cheap; I know that!"


   "Be my slave," he responded, coolly.


   She was silent, but to Ellsworth's surprise, she didn't look shocked.


   She nodded.  "I thought it would be something like that, you prick."


   "Well?"


   "If that's what it will take, of course."


   He raised his eyebrows.  "You agree?  You know, Madame . . .  a slave
does whatever her Master orders her to.  That means everything!"


   "I know.  But I expect you to never sell those tapes.  Any of them.  If
you do, you've lost the money I can provide, as well as"as, whatever
satisfaction you'll get by my acting as your slave."


   You'll say and do whatever I tell you to?"


   "Within reason," she said.  "Don't forget, Senator, this is a deal, not
a one-way affair."


   "I'll destroy all of the tapes except the original," he said.  "I won't
take the risk of having you renege."


   "All right," she responded.  "But there's one thing more.  Promise that
you won't do again what you did that first day."


   "What do you mean?"


   "Sucking your cock."


   Ellsworth laughed, scornfully.  "That was nothing!  If you won't suck my
cock, forget our deal.  I'm going to distribute the tapes, right now." He
reached again for the door.


   "I see," she said, reddening; "You're a real bastard!"


   He shouted, "What did you expect I'd want a slave to do, you fucking
cunt!"


   She flushed.  "There's no need for gutter language, Senator.  I
understand that-that men expect to-to have that.  I know that women do it.
What bothered me . . .  wasn't exactly that.  It-It was uh, that you,
ejaculated.  That disgusted me, terribly.  After you left, I got so
nauseated, that I vomited."


   He shrugged.  "Your hang-ups don't concern me.  You do whatever I order
you to, or the deal is off."


   She slowly took in a deep breath, in and out.  "All right.  I'm prepared
to give you oral sex.  But at least promise that you won't come in my
mouth."


   "Listen, you cunt!" Ellsworth exclaimed, angrily.  His booming voice
caused her to jump; "A slave does everything her Master tells her to,
understand?  You're going to do everything!"


   She trembled.  His harsh tone, honed on the pulpit of the Senate, made
her face grow pale.


   He enunciated his words clearly and slowly, talking as if she were a
young child who would fail to understand them if he spoke too quickly. 
"You'll do whatever I tell you to do, you Cunt!  Even if you detest it,
you'll do it!  Understand?"


   Lindsey swallowed, her face pale.  Her voice hardly more than a whisper,
she replied, "Y-Yes.  I-I understand, Senator.  A-All right."


   "You'll do anything and everything!"


   She took a deep breath in, and then exhaled.  "Yes."


   "I'll come in your mouth, and you'll say, 'Oh, Master, it's so good!'"


   She closed her eyes and she shuddered.


   "I said that I'd do everything, Senator.  Please!"


   "Master.  From now on, you'll address me as Master.  Repeat it, Slut! 
Master!"


   Her face grew red again, and her lips quivered.  Did he see tears
welling in the executive's eye?  Incredible!  He gloated, licking his lips.
His cock was rigid in his trousers.


   "P-Please don't call me, th-that.  I-I'll do everything you tell me to,
M-Master.  ."


   "I'll call you whatever I want to call you, Slut!  Repeat what you've
agreed to."


   Looking down, she avoided his eyes.  She said, "I-I'll do whatever you
tell me to . . .  Master."


   "I'll hold up my end of our bargain," he said; "but as I said, I'll keep
the original.  If it proves necessary, I can have more copies made from
it."


   "I won't back out."


   "Master," he repeated.  "Remember that I'm your Master.  Next time you
forget, I'll whip you."


   He smiled down at her.  He modulated his tone and spoke his words easily
and clearly.  "Lindsey, make a mental note of what I tell you now.  I
foresee deriving considerable pleasure in the process of whipping you.  I
expect to whip you frequently.  Moreover, I intend to indulge myself during
my very next visit, tomorrow.  To prepare for it, as soon as I leave today,
you'll have a blue girl bring you a variety of whips.  You'll provide me
with a selection to try on you."


   She gasped, and she failed to reply for several long seconds.


   Ellsworth asked, "Well?  Do you have some objection, slut?"


   Lindsey looked down, not meeting his eyes.  "N-No, Master.  I'll obtain
them for you."


   "Take off the robe," he ordered.


   "I . . ." she hesitated, but only for a second; then she replied, "Yes,
Master."


   She undid the sash and slipped the garment from her shoulders.  She laid
it over the arm of the sofa.  Then she stood before him, blushing.


   Ellsworth gazed at her body.  Firm, large breasts.  Her waist wasn't
particularly slim, but it was appropriate considering her large breasts and
flared hips.  He liked that shaved pubis.  Her labia were prominent.  He
wondered how she had made them hairless.  Wax?  It must have hurt like the
devil!


   "Spread your legs," he told her.


   "Y-Yes, Master," she responded.


   She moved her feet farther apart.  Her labia became even more evident.

   "Spread your cunt lips."


   Lindsey flushed deeper.  "Y-Yes, Master."


   She placed her hands on her pubis, her fingers curled downward. 
Ellsworth watched as she inserted the fingertips of both hands between her
labia.


   Ellsworth reached down.  He slipped his forefinger between the spread
lips.  She was dry.  He disliked touching a cunt unless it was swollen and
juicy.


   Not that the Senator was an eater of bearded clams.  He despised those
wimpish males who were.  But, the Senator sometimes mused that, if he was
attracted to a woman enough, and for some reason it was the only way for
her to get in the state he wanted her in, he might consider the act.  It
was just a fantasy.  He doubted that it would ever come to that.


   "Christ!" he exclaimed, frustrated, "You have no clitoris!"


   She flushed.  "Yes I do.  I'm not aroused, Senator."


   He slapped her face, hard.  Obviously, it stung, and Lindsey put her
hand to her cheek, wide-eyed.  "Wh-Why did you do that?"


   "Master, you slut, Master!" He slipped his belt from its loops and held
it by the buckle.  He suddenly swung his arm horizontally, whipping the
belt in a vicious arc that struck both of her breasts in quick succession
across the nipples.


   "Ow!!" she exclaimed, clutching her breasts in both hands.  "I'm sorry,
Master!  I forgot, Master!"


   "It seems to be the code here for slaves to thank their Masters for
being punished, Lindsey.  You know that, don't you?"


   "I know, Master.  Thank you, Master."


   "The next time you forget, I'll use a real whip on you.  Right now, I
want to feel your clit.  If you aren't hot, then get yourself hot. 
Finger-fuck yourself!"


   "All right, Master."


   Ellsworth watched her move her fingers about in her vulva, touching
herself lightly, probing.


   After about a minute, she looked up at him.  "It's . . .  It's hopeless.
I can't get excited."


   "Master!" he said, again raising the belt.


   "Master," she repeated, shivering.  He wondered if it was a consequence
of her nakedness or her fear.  He hoped the latter.


   "Get your vibrators; I presume that you have a few."


   She blushed again.  "But, I don't know if I . . .  "


   "Get them!" he ordered.


   His eyes followed her as she ran naked into her bedroom, her tits
bouncing.


   Ellsworth unzipped his fly.  His cock sprang out, rigid as a tent-pole.
He grasped it and began pumping it.  His eyes remained on the naked woman.


   He watched her open her walk-in closet.  She reached up to a shelf, and
she withdrew a large man-sized rectangular briefcase and she placed it on
her bed.  Opening it, she took out two items.  Leaving the case open, she
hurried back into the living room.


   Ellsworth's eyes followed her mobile breasts as she trotted back.  She
ignored his exposed organ and moving hand.  She said, "I have to plug in
the extension cord."


   She held an instrument with a bulbous head and a handle that was about
the length of her forearm.


   "Don't you have a battery vibrator?"


   "My, uh, Magic Wand is more reliable," she said; "Master."


   He shrugged.  "Then use it."


   She gripped its handle close to its bulbous head and lowered it until
the head was in front of her pubis.  She switched it on, and it began to
buzz.


   The Senator watched.  "Spread your legs more," he said.  "I can't see."


   Lindsey blushed, but she spread her legs.  She pressed the vibrating
head against her projecting labia; and then, by twisting it one way and
then the other, she worked it slowly between them.


   After about a minute, her breathing deepened, and she closed her eyes.
She parted her lips and began moving the vibrator from side to side. 
Suddenly a moan escaped her lips.  She opened her eyes, observed his grin,
and she blushed.


   Ellsworth continued pumping his organ while he looked over her body,
from her tits down to her labia, which were now swollen, up to her parted
lips and to her glazed eyes.


   Lindsey opened her mouth wide, and she took in a deep breath.  She
emitted a soft, moan, like the mew from a kitten.


   She grimaced, and she held her breath and closed her eyes.  Finally, she
exhaled.


   Ellsworth reached out with his left hand.  Lindsey withdrew her hands
and the Magic Wand.  Her pudenda felt warm and swollen to his fingers. 
When he pressed them, his digits suddenly slipped between them.


   "You're wet," he said.


   He determined the dimensions and shape of her clit with the ends of his
fingers.  Lindsey emitted another soft moan.  She again closed her eyes.


   As his fingers groped, her body began to shake.


   Her protuberance didn't feel as firm as Judith's.  Perhaps it would
harden further were she more aroused.  As for size, it felt substantial; it
was certainly larger than Judith's, perhaps twice the size of the
attorney's.


   I wonder if all the sucking that this gets is what caused it to get this
big?


   He thought about all the sucking that his male organ had received. 
Since his youth, so many girls and women had sucked on it that the Senator
couldn't possibly guess their number.  Despite them, his cock had not
increased in size by even one millimeter.  He doubted that a clitoris would
be different.


   He had been intrigued for years by the variety in the clitorises that
he'd fingered.  As to whether Lindsey's would get firmer if she were
aroused more, that was at least a question to which he could determine the
answer.  As soon as he got Sheila, he'd have her suck Lindsey's clit.  That
would make it hard.


   No, on second thought, I'll make them sixty-nine each other.  That
should really make it hard.  Two cunts sucking each other's cunts!


   Ellsworth was pleased by the idea.  Although imagining himself sucking a
cunt made him slightly nauseous, compelling two attractive females to do it
to each other would be a good turn-on.  Once he had them both trained to
perform, he imagined how he would enjoy them:


   Except for their collars and handcuffs, each female is naked, and they
kneel side by side on Lindsey's carpet, awaiting his orders.


   "Sheila," he says; "get on Lindsey's bed."


   Because her wrists are handcuffed behind her, the blonde is clumsy.  She
has difficulty keeping her balance as she clambers onto the edge of
Lindsey's bed, one knee at a time.  The moment that her knees are firmly on
it, Ellsworth shoves her.  Unable to keep her balance, Sheila falls
forward, and her face and shoulders bury themselves in the bedclothes,
leaving her rump in the air, the highest point of her body.  Her legs
(below the knees) and her bare ass project over the edge of the bed.


   "Slut," Ellsworth says to Lindsey, "kneel here."


   He points to the space between Sheila's projecting legs, below her
upraised rump.


   The cosmetics executive obeys, and he further tells her, "Stick your
face in her cunt."


   He stands behind her and grasps her head.  Holding it, he shoves her
face into Sheila's vulva.  He works it until her nose is in the blonde's
vagina and her mouth is close to Sheila's clit.


   Still holding her head, he tells her, "Make her come." He pushes and
moves her head until, when he briefly pulls her head back, he confirms that
her face is thoroughly wet.


   Lindsey sucks on Sheila's clit while Ellsworth, still gripping her head,
moves forward.  He straddles her head and plants his feet on each side of
her.  Gripping the base of his penis, he slips the head between Sheila's
buttocks.  He's filled Sheila's anus and rectum liberally with petroleum
jelly and has spread more between her buttocks.  He maneuvers his organ
from side to side, simultaneously pushing.  He ignores Sheila's cries of
distress.  The head forces open the tight ring of her anus.  It abruptly
goes in, and the ring grabs its neck.  He leans forward and grips her
shoulders with both of his hands to keep her from sliding forward.  He
pushes again and again, thrusting his hips.  His cock inches into her
rectum.  With each thrust, the blonde emits more 'Oh!'s.


   Except for her cries, which Ellsworth savors, the blonde seems fearful
of making any further verbal protest.  The Senator is nothing if not a
psychologist, and instilling the fear of protesting while he enjoys a
female enhances his gratification.


   Finally, the entire length of his cock is stuffed between her buttocks.
By now the lubricant has spread, and thrusting is easier.  He moves faster,
his belly beating her buttocks while his hands grip her shoulders The
sensations from his balls are exquisite as each thrust and withdrawal drags
and bounces them through Lindsey's fine hair.


   * * *


   Having Lindsey available would provide him with some diversions on those
days or nights when he was bored.  That could be true even were he to
simply relax with a novel.  He imagined an evening of that sort:


   He has descended from his lofty suite to the female executive's
apartment and has seated himself in her favorite armchair.  His slave
stands before him, her legs apart.  She is dressed in a babydoll nylon
nightie without panties, nothing more.  As is usual when he visits her, he
orders her to masturbate, but forbids her to come and, if by chance she has
an orgasm, it justifies a whipping.  He waits patiently as she fingers
herself and, when he's satisfied that she's sufficiently aroused, he
manacles her hands behind her back, clamping each wrist to her other arm
above the elbow.  Not only does this have the advantage of causing her
considerable discomfort, but it causes her to thrust out her chest and full
breasts quite seductively.


   The Senator picks up and opens the novel that he's brought, and he
begins reading.  Prior to turning each page, the Senator fingers her wet
cunt.


   "P-Please, Master," Lindsey says, "Would you undo my hands?"


   Ellsworth looks up.  "Why do you need your hands, Cunt?"


   The executive blushes.  A fleeting look of anger cross her countenance,
and the Senator hopes to hear her respond with a retort.  He is eager to
beat her tits again.  Whipping them is a source of pleasure to him, but he
limits himself in that indulgence.  He prefers to resort to it only when
her lapses justify discipline.  Had she experienced an orgasm, that would
be ample justification but, each time that her arousal becomes intense
enough to induce moans, she abruptly ceases moving her fingers..


   From time to time, Ellsworth whips her for the sheer pleasure that he
derives from it.  However, whipping her without cause offends his sense of
propriety and inhibits him.  On those occasions, he limits himself to
whipping her buttocks.  To compensate him for sparing her breasts however,
he feels free to apply the whip for as long as he pleases.


   Her screams are music to his ears.  Often, while he applies the leather
to her naked body, he masturbates with his free hand.


   "B-Because I'm aroused, Master.  M-May I have an orgasm?"


   He looks up at her, a haughty expression on his face.  "You're lesbian,
Madame.  How can you be aroused by a man's hand?"


   She blushes.  "As-In the same way that I'd be aroused by a vibrator,
Sen"Master."


   He glances through the kitchen doorway.  By craning his head, he is just
able to see her wall clock.  "We're having visitors soon.  One of them can
take care of you."


   "Visitors!" She looks shocked.  "B-But, then . . .  may I get dressed?
Please, Master?"


   Ellsworth shakes his head.  "Certainly not, Cunt.  You're perfectly
dressed for the company as you are."


   "B-But . . .  Who are they?"


   "Tsk-tsk," Ellsworth says, pretending that he's disappointed by her
lapse.  He stands up.  "You forgot to address me properly."


   She gasps, and her face reddens.  He expects (or rather, he hopes) that
she will protest, in order to justify his extending the duration of the
discipline that she's exposed herself to by her lapse.


   But stuttering, she begs, "P-Please, punish me, Master.  Whip me,
p-please!"


   He withdraws his belt from his trousers.  "Spread your legs," he orders.


   She obeys, and he inserts his forefinger between her labia and wiggles
her clit.  It feels hard.


   Is she still this aroused?  Or does the anticipation of a whipping now
turn her on?!


   He explores her vulva, following the interior of her labia with his
forefinger.  It makes an oval circuit, and when he withdraws it, it drips
viscous fluid.


   With his other hand, he grasps the hem of her nightie and raises it. 
"Hold this up," he orders.  He shoves the hem of her garment between her
teeth.


   He looks at her bare breasts.  They are firm and large, even accounting
for her frame, which is substantial.  He must certainly fuck her between
them soon; their size begs for it.  He observes that her nipples are
already hard and are easy targets.  It seems that the fluid on them isn't
necessary.


   Nevertheless, Ellsworth doesn't waste it.  He reaches up.  He kneads and
pulls on her nipples, and he flicks them.  He transfers as much of the
viscous fluid onto them as they will retain.  When he is done, her nipples
and areolas have become as wet as his fingers, and they are equally
fragrant.  Surprisingly, her nipples actually do feel harder.


   Careful to avoid the hem between her teeth and where it hangs over her
chin, he wipes his fingers on her face.


   "Kneel," he tells her.


   Awkwardly but carefully (since her hands are behind her back, with her
wrists manacled to her elbows), Lindsey kneels on the carpet.  She looks up
at him and exclaims, her voice garbled because of the nylon between her
teeth, "Preeze, Mstr!  Nt too hrd.  Preeze!"


   Ellsworth is practiced at whipping tits.  He flicks the tongue of the
belt in a quick, horizontal blow.  With a light 'splat!' sound, it strikes
only her left nipple and raised areola.  It doesn't touch the larger hill
of her breast.


   "Mff!" Lindsey exclaims, gritting her teeth.


   He utilizes a backhand for the next blow, aimed directly at the side of
her right breast.  At the last moment he augments its force with a wrist
flick.  The blow strikes with a loud sound resembling that of a handclap.
It drives her breast violently sideways, into the other breast.


   Lindsey emits a loud "Mmmmff!" Her breast jiggles for several seconds
before coming to rest.


   There is a loud rap on the door.


   "Madame LeBeau," the Senator says, indicating with an upturned cupped
hand for her to rise to her feet, "Go to the door.  Invite your guests in."


   He's acutely disappointed that his pleasure has been interrupted.  He
determines that, in compensation, the entertainment that he will offer to
the four couples whom he's invited will be as humiliating for the cosmetics
executive as possible.


   Women have an acute sense of what shames another woman.  The female of
each couple will decide the services that Lindsey will provide to her and
her escort.


   Lindsey struggles to her feet, the hem still between her teeth.  She
hesitates, looking questioningly at him.


   He waves his hand imperiously, "Oh, let the hem down.  It's impolite to
speak with your mouth full."

   .

   She opens her teeth, allowing the hem to fall, and it slithers down. 
Although it the gown now covers her, it conceals nothing.  Even though it
shadows them a little, he can even see her bare labia through the garment.


   Lindsey draws in a deep nervous breath; then she exhales.


   "But . . .  " she says, hesitating, looking down.


   She blushes.  Ellsworth supposes that her nakedness is inhibiting her.
Her hardened and projecting nipples are plainly visible through the nylon.


   However, Ellsworth's look seems to intimidate her.  After a glance at
him, she replies, "All right, Master."


   Just as she reaches the door there is another impatient knock.  Lindsey,
unable to do anything with her hands, calls, "The door is unlocked.  Please
come in!"


   The door opens and . . .


   * * *


   AE35.doc (pp.  293-300)


   CHAPTER 35: Rita Abuses Bill (Part 1)


   This must be a nightmare.  I can't believe this is happening to me. 
Poor Jane.  If they're doing things like this to me, what can they be doing
to her?


   There was no clock in the room, so he didn't know what time it was, but
he'd awakened, and heard some stir through the wall behind him; he knew
that the adjoining room was the bedroom of Rita and George.  He, like Ed,
was growing accustomed to fitfully sleeping while standing"or rather, while
hanging, for each of them eventually and invariably slumped, allowing the
chain to partially support them.  At least the collars were wide enough not
to choke.


   Every morning it was the same for him.  Both his wrists and Ed Ericson's
were kept handcuffed behind their backs, as high as their shoulder blades
by chains to their collars.  Each one's legs were held separated by a
spreader bar, convenient for the Fiend, when she decided that the wearer of
the bar required discipline.  Bill shuddered mentally when he recalled some
of those punishments.  Before arriving up here, he'd have never imagined
that a woman could do the things that Rita had done to him to force his
obedience.  Eventually he realized that she had no compunctions at all.


   On entering their room, which was nominally a Workout Room, George took
them first into the bathroom to use the toilet.  Then he shaved them.  He
watched, while they performed their other ablutions on each other.  Each
awkwardly washed the other by holding a sponge between his teeth.


   Then, George re-chained Ed in the position where he was now, standing in
the Workout Room, held to one small area by a chain that connected one of
the links in his handcuffs to a ceiling hook.  Bill was beside him, in his
'place' as well, but he wouldn't be for long.


   The door opened, and George entered.  George, pot-bellied, and with
smooth brown hair that revealed only a few gray strands, was about
forty-five.  Neither Bill nor Ed knew to whether George and Rita were
married, but what was evident to them both was that Rita was in charge. 
She treated George as her gofer.


   Bill knew what was coming.


   At least George closes the Workout Room door.  If I thought that he'd
see what they do to me in here, I'd jump through that window first.  That
woman is a monster!  Ed calls her 'The Bitch', but she's been easy on him:
he doesn't know her.


   'Fiend' was the term that Bill used to himself.  For some reason he,
rather than Ed, had borne the brunt of her sadism.  When Ed spoke without
permission, even when he swore at her, she merely threatened him, saying,
"Your turn will come."


   * * *


   George, gripping him by the upper arm, led him into the living room
area. The room, like the few others in the suite that Bill had seen, was
rich, with its deep gold carpeting and its lavish furnishings, including
its padded arm chairs, cocktail and lamp tables, and two sofas.  It was
large and luxuriously furnished.  The far wall was virtually all glass,
through which Bill could see the canopy of trees that topped the jungle
which they had passed through after leaving the ship.


   The paintings were obscene, and Bill avoided looking at them.


   When they were in the center of the room, Bill lay prone on the carpet
on his back.  The position hurt his arms, but he hardly noticed the
physical discomfort, so concerned that he was about what was to follow.


   George crossed the room to the armchair in which he usually sat.  Bill
paid no attention to him, knowing that George's actions would repeat those
of the previous days.  He would have undone the sash of his bathrobe,
opened it wide, and seated himself.  Then, aroused by his anticipation of
what the Fiend termed, 'this morning's festivities', he would grasp his
already erect penis, and begin to lightly pump it.  It was incomprehensible
to Bill, that what filled him with revulsion could be arousing to his two
captors.


   These people are incredibly perverted!


   Rita's toy mallet was undoubtedly lying beside George on one of the
chair's padded arms, but Rita wouldn't need it this morning.  She had
applied it enough during Bill's first days of 'training'.  He knew the
consequences of disobedience and she would have no cause to use it today.


   He was already in position when Rita exited the bedroom.  Although
sometimes she wore a skirt (without panties under it), she liked to display
her big tits, so she never wore anything above her waist.  This morning she
was entirely naked, and her brown bush was so full that it covered her
genitals almost like a bikini.  Although overweight, the woman didn't have
a bad body, but the erotic thoughts that Bill might have developed on first
seeing her naked were moribund, dispelled by his knowledge of what was in
store for him.


   Ed, kept in the 'Workout Room' ever since Rita had bought the two of
them, was frequently discomfited by spontaneous erections.  It was
understandable.  With their hands bound by cuffs behind their shoulder
blades, it was impossible for either of them to jerk off.  Each of them had
gone for more than a week without being able to manually touch his
genitals.


   If the Fiend ever works on you Ed, like she has on me, your problem will
disappear pretty fucking fast!


   At the thought, a brief smile crossed his countenance.


   Rita stood over him, straddling his waist and looking down at him.  She
noticed his smile and, probably thinking that it was the sight of her naked
bod that made him smile, she smiled in response.


   "You'll be pleased, Billy," she told him; "to hear that I've been
holding myself for you.  I didn't use the bathroom even once last night."


   He shuddered.  Nevertheless, he forced himself to smile up at her. 
"That's great, Mistress.  I-I'm really r-ready."


   She half leaned over him, dangling her breasts over his eyes.  Then she
knelt, straddling his waist.  She reached back with a hand, and Bill felt
her fingers grasp his penis.  She pouted.  "You don't act like it, Billy.
Are you fibbing?"


   His heart began to pound.


   Oh god!  If she guesses that I'm lying, she'll use the mallet; but if I
tell her the truth, that will make her mad, and she'll use it then, too.


   "No, I swear, Mistress.  Uh it's uh, my nuts.  You know; they're kind of
sore; just a little."


   "They still hurt?  I haven't used the mallet for days, Billy.  You've
been so good!"


   "I-I know.  I don't know why they are, Mistress Rita."


   "Well," she said, smiling down at him; "you'll get hard when I give you
your treat."


   He tried to say 'Yeah'.  Revulsion, however, constricted his throat, and
all that he managed was an undecipherable gagging sound and a nod.


   She moved forward on her knees and squatted over his head.  A moment
later her pudenda pressed down upon his face, and the velvety texture of
her inner labia touched his tongue as they protruded between his parted
lips into his mouth.  It felt as though all of Rita's weight was upon his
face.  A moment later a flood of urine rushed into his mouth.


   His mouth was suddenly full.  Bill gulped as fast as he could.  One week
ago, the first time she had done it, he had been unprepared.  The shock had
paralyzed him, and he had been unable to swallow.  His mouth overfilled,
and fluid ran over his face and into her carpet.


   For that, she whipped him.  She used her cat-o-nine-tails while he was
naked on his knees trying to lick clean her damp carpet without the support
of his hands, bound as they were behind his back.  He fell numerous times,
face down, onto the carpet.  Her blows fell frighteningly low down on his
buttocks, accidentally he initially supposed.  Not that he cared that they
painfully scored his thighs.  Sometimes, one of the low swings of the lash
went between his thighs, with one of its metal-tipped strands impacting one
of the sensitive objects there.  Whenever it did, Rita exhuberantly
laughed.


   He gulped, trying not to gag.  He prayed that the flood would soon end.


   "Ah!" she finally exclaimed, and the heavy weight on his face subsided
slightly.  "What delicious relief!" Her body moved forward and back as she
wiped herself over his face.


   He was able to breathe again, but his mouth tasted of salt, and his
nostrils were wet and reeked.


   She raised herself further, and her pudenda were above his face.  Now he
could see her looking down at him from between her projecting breasts.  She
reached down, and he again felt her fingers run through his blonde hair.


   "Do a good job, Billy," she ordered.  Bill licked her vulva, cleaning
her.


   Suddenly she exclaimed, "Ah!  Keep licking--right there!"


   His heart sank, but he obeyed.  He felt her clitoris grow.  He was
afraid of what would come next.  It had happened the previous day.


   "Billy, I-I want to come in your mouth again," she said, smiling down at
him, her face outlined between those pendulous knockers.  Would you like
that?"


   'Coming' she called it.  More pissing was what he called it.  Yesterday
it hadn't tasted like urine; so he didn't know what it was, but he still
dreaded it.  Anyway, what did it matter?  He had to do what she wanted, or
she'd use the mallet.


   He forced a smile, even though her cunt was over his mouth, and she
couldn't possibly see it.  "Oh, yes, Mistress!" he exclaimed.


   * * *


   Rita was lying back in the deep recliner, her legs spread, with her
thighs on the two arms of the chair and her calves and bare feet dangling
over the sides.


   Bill was kneeling precariously on the projecting foot of the recliner,
balancing himself on his knees.  His head was between her thighs, and he
moved his tongue from side to side, very lightly as she ordered him to,
over the swollen ridge, forcing himself not to retch.  She wanted to 'come
in his mouth' again.


   Yesterday when he'd followed her directions, he had no idea what she was
talking about, but he had lowered his head like she told him to.  He had
only to move his head down a couple of inches, but, without the use of his
hands to support himself, it had been a fiasco.


   Her piss, or whatever it was, squirted in his face.  Hardly half went in
his mouth.  He swallowed as much of it as he could, but she had been
angered anyway.  She had whipped him for allowing some to get on the
recliner.  This time she punished him using George's belt, wielding it
while he licked the chair.


   Fearful that she would use the whip below his buttocks again, Bill
cleaned the chair as much as he could by working while kneeling on the
carpet.  Kneeling on the chair would make it too easy for her to 'miss' his
buttocks and impact below them.  His tactic failed to frustrate her. 
Giggling while Bill cleaned the cushion, his belly propped against it for
support, she bent over behind him, her arm held straight out.  Instead of
swinging the strap in a horizontal arc, she flicked it vertically.  When
Bill realized her intention, he began jerking his hips from side to side to
evade it, eliciting more giggles from the woman.  She soon abandoned the
use of her wrist to flick it, however, which produced a light tap against
his buttock.


   She began using her entire forearm, inducing the flick by suddenly
flexing her arm at the elbow.  Using it, when the belt struck the underside
of a buttock it produced with a satisfyingly loud 'crack!' that stung, and
drew an 'Ow!' from Bill.  Eventually, by chance his side to side dodges
failed in their intent, and the belt tongue flew up between his legs.  It
struck the delicate objects between them like a paddle whacking a table
tennis ball.  Bill's excruciated cry elicited ebullient laughter from Rita.


   * * *


   After a week, his tongue was all that she wanted from him, except that
she also enjoyed watching him do 'that other thing', for George.


   She liked to fuck George while Bill was nearby with his handcuffs linked
to a ceiling hook.  She hadn't used the mallet in a week, and Bill's forced
abstention from all sexual outlet was now causing him the same distress
that Ed was experiencing.  Recently, while riding George on a chair, Rita
observed that his penis was erect.  "Look, George!" she exclaimed,
pointing, and the two had laughed, enjoying his embarrassed arousal.


   * * *


   Despite his continued licking of her clit, Rita finally said, "I guess
you're not going to make me come, Billy.  You've turned out to be something
of a disappointment to me."


   Grabbing a handful of his hair, she raised his head from between her
legs.  Cupping her palm against his forehead, she pushed him from her,
causing him to fall awkwardly backward off of the foot support and onto the
carpet.  The fall twisted his arms painfully, and it was nearly a minute
before he was able to turn over and bring himself to his knees.


   Christ.  When I get loose, I'll kill that woman!


   Rita got off of the chair.  "Billy," she said; "go take care of George
now.  I enjoy seeing you suck his cock.  Maybe that will turn me on more."


   Bill looked at the man.  George's bathrobe lay wide open, his erect
penis in his hand.  He was stroking it lightly but as soon as he saw Bill
look at him, he grinned and began to rapidly pump it.


   A spasm of revulsion run through Bill.  Nevertheless, he couldn't take
another of Rita's 'Indoor Croquet' games.  He forced a smile.


   "Yes, Mistress Rita."


   * * *


   On the first morning of Bill's 'training', George rose before Rita. 
After seeing to the two males' morning ablutions, he stored Ed in the
Workout Room; then he led Bill, who was naked and with his wrists
handcuffed behind his back, into the living room of the suite.

   A peculiar wooden structure stood in the center of the room.  It was in
the shape of a large "Y" on its back, its leg and two arms parallel to and
raised about two feet above the floor.  It was supported by four thick
supporting legs, one under the ends of each arm and the leg of the wye, and
one under their nexus.


   "Warm enough for you?" George asked.


   "Yeah.  But I still don't like to be led around naked like this," the
young man said.  "What's going on?  I thought that, after that auction, I
was going to work for you and your wife."


   "'Work' isn't the word," George said, grinning.  He led Bill to the
center of the large room.  When they reached an area under a large ceiling
hook, George told him, "Stand here."


   On the carpet just beside Bill was a foot stool on which a length of
chain lay and a long bar to which manacles had been attached.


   George attached a cliphook"the termination of one end of the chain--to
the link between Bill's handcuffs.  Then, as the man stood on the stool,
Bill felt the chain pull his handcuffs upward until his wrists were between
his shoulder blades.  He watched as George slipped a link of the chain over
a hook in the ceiling.


   Finally, down from the stool, George fastened a spreader bar between the
boy's ankles.


   Once Bill was bound in position, George produced a long length of heavy
white cord from his pocket.  He knelt before the youth and grasped his
testicles.


   "Jesus!" Bill exclaimed; "What are you doing?!"


   George only looked up and him and grinned.


   "You'll see.  When Rita starts instructing you; you'll know exactly why
I'm doing this."


   George wound the cord meticulously and closely, wrapping all of the skin
above them so that, when he had finished, the windings looked like a tube,
below which Bill's balls dangled.  "O.K., Rita!" he called toward the
closed door to their bedroom.  "He's ready!"


   George's work completed, he sat in his armchair.


   On that first day, Rita appeared fully clothed except that Bill noticed
that she wore no bra under her blouse.  She gave him a brief smile, while
he stood before her, nervous and embarrassed by both his nakedness and her
examination of him.  After looking him over and feeling his muscles, she
said, "You're as nice a specimen as I've seen."


   Then she grasped his penis and looked at it, embarrassing him further.


   "For your size, I hoped this would be more substantial," she said, and
then she released it.  She then stooped before him and inspected the
winding.  Bill saw her grip the cord and hold it horizontally so that his
balls were before her eyes.  They were so tightly enclosed in the skin that
he thought that, except for their pink hue, they resembled ball-bearings.
The tube of cord stretched the skin above them so much that, when Rita
opened her hand, letting the 'ball bearings' slide from her fingers and
swing back between his legs, they came to rest in a position much lower
than normal.  He couldn't see them well, but he guessed they hung more than
two inches lower than his penis.


   The first few training days were ones that he tried to forget.  The acts
she ordered him to perform were so obscene that at first he couldn't
believe she meant them.


   These people are total perverts!


   It required days before he comprehended how true that was.  He didn't
grasp the sadism of the woman.  He thought he could refuse to respond to
her commands, thinking that he could resist any means that Rita might use
to coerce him.  Her first few orders he ignored.  He refused to do
everything she told him to.  He paid for his innocence.


   His refusals didn't anger her, they stimulated her.  Bill soon learned
that each of his refusals provided her with the excuse for a 'game'.


   Her game she termed 'Indoor Croquet'.


   Although George was mildly amused by her game, the Fiend thought it was
hilarious.  If Bill cried out after a hard blow, she laughed.  "I adore
hearing him beg me to stop, George!" she exclaimed.  "I fear that, when he
becomes a slave and does all that I tell him to, I'll be disappointed."


   George smiled.  He unzipped his fly and exposed his penis.  "I hope
you're still gonna make him suck on this.  I need to come."


   "Of course, George!" she exclaimed.  "The parties that you men put on
are so limiting.  They feature just Crane's female slaves.  Of course, you
men put them on only to satisfy the interests of you men.  I intend to put
on a party to entertain women.  When Crane's female clients see Bill
service you, and then does the other males who attend, it will create a
sensation."


   He shrugged.  "You women are a mystery.  I wouldn't think seeing the kid
suck me off would interest women."


   "You'd be surprised what interests us, George.  When I have the man
trained, my soire�s will be even more popular.  I'll make Ed's beautiful
cock available to all of my friends.  But the real attraction"it will be my
tour de force--will be having Ed and Bill sixty-nine each other.  Then my
parties will be all the rage!  Every woman client vacationing here will
want an invitation."


   * * *


   AE36.doc (pp.  301-306)


   CHAPTER 36: Sheila Applies for Blue Girl Status


   "Why are you doing this to me?" Wendy cried.


   Instead of replying, Crane fingered one of her erect nipples, flicking
it up and down.


   Eventually, he responded, "Isn't this rather late in the game to ask me
that?  How long have you been here?"


   Crane paused for a moment.  So many females had passed through his
bedroom that, at times, trying to recall the history of one was difficult.


   "A week," she said.


   "Nearly," he agreed.  "Why are you suddenly curious now, six days
later?"


   Wendy was manacled to the wall in his bedroom, occupying one of the
three positions available there to maintain females for his use, whether
day or night.  Except for the harness, she was naked.  Her wrists were
gripped in handcuffs several feet to each side of her, near the ceiling and
her ankles by cuffs near the floor, keeping all four of her limbs spread
wide apart.


   A fat smoothie vibrator, set at its highest setting, was stuffed up her
rectum, kept in by a strap of the harness which had been drawn tightly
between her buttocks, between her inner labia, and back up to the belt that
was around her waist.


   On previous days Wendy had a second vibrator in her vagina as well as a
butterfly vibe over her clit, but at the moment the harness held only the
one.  Crane was holding the front strap a few inches away from and to one
side of her labia.  He held a coil vibrator in his other hand and was
applying it to her swollen clitoris.  Occasionally, he inserted it into her
vagina, but when he did, he worked it about lightly in the vestibule, to
avoid causing her to ejaculate.


   He spread her outer labia with two fingers.  Now, with more room
provided for the vibrating head, he drew it lightly up the right side of
Wendy's clit.


   The brunette moaned, and she closed her eyes.  Crane drew the vibrator
slowly upward, over the ridge, and down the other side.


   "Aaah!  Aaaah!  Aaaaah!" Wendy cried, shaking in her bonds.  Crane
grasped her throbbing clit, holding it between his finger and thumb in
order to feel its pulsations.  He gripped it until the spasms subsided.


   Wendy gasped several times, drawing in deeper and deeper breaths until,
finally, she relaxed in her bonds.  "Whew!" she said.  "God, I must have
come a hundred times this week!  Why are you doing this to me?"


   "Why?  Don't you like it?"


   "That isn't the point.  I just asked you why."


   "Well," he said; "It's rather a long story.  When I was younger, I
worked on a ranch in Nevada.  I was a general handyman.  Guard, bouncer."


   "Bouncer?  At a ranch?"


   He smiled.  "Some 'ranches' there are just fancy whore houses.  Anyway,
one of the girls told me that she could have an orgasm by being touched
almost anywhere on her body.  She had developed the ability when she was in
business for herself, in L.A.  She claimed she didn't provide any of the
usual sex.  She and the customer would just masturbate, sometimes just
themselves and sometimes each other.  She came dozens of times every day
and, after three years of that, almost any touch could give her an orgasm.
I want to see if we can do the same with you."


   "Jesus!" Wendy exclaimed.  You are weird!"


   Crane emitted a moan of pleasure, and Wendy glanced down at Sarah.


   She was a brunette, as slender as Wendy, but much younger, just
eighteen. She was naked on the carpet before him, holding the head of his
penis in her mouth.  She was holding his testicles lightly in her other
hand and was tickling them with her nails.


   Wendy blushed and looked back up.  She said, "When those blue girls
brought me up here," she said; "I was scared of you.  I was sure that you
were some kind of awful pervert who might do god knows what to me!  After
this week, I concluded that you're not.  You're just an ordinary pervert,
like other guys."


   "I'm disappointed," he said, smiling.  "I thought I was unique."


   He extended his arm over Sarah's head, and he inserted his forefinger up
into Wendy's vagina.  It reappeared, dripping, and he inserted it in his
mouth and sucked it clean.


   "God!  you're dirty!" Wendy exclaimed, grimacing.  She turned her head
to the side.


   Crane felt Sarah's stroking tongue leading him inexorably toward an
orgasm.  Over the several months that Sarah had been his slave, the girl
had developed from an awkward and sexually ignorant high school senior who
had only fucked one boy to an expert at sucking his cock.


   This morning it seemed that Sarah was determined to tease him.  She
hadn't pumped his cock with her hand once.  Instead, for the entire half
hour, she had used only her tongue and her lips.  By now she probably had a
good idea of how great an urge he had to grip her by her hoop earrings and
fuck her mouth, shoving his cock down her throat.


   Doubtless that was what she wanted him to do.  She probably was thinking
about his instructing her about the benefit of pumping the skin of his
shaft and wanted to show how she didn't need to.  She could dispense with
using her hands by now, Crane knew, and even of bobbing her head.  He was
restraining himself as much as he could, but every minute made it more
difficult.  She'd soon send him over the brink.


   The buzzer sounded.


   "Ignore it," Crane told her.  "Don't get up.  Kelly is going to bring
the blonde in here."


   * * *


   Sheila and Kelly exited the elevator on the fourth floor.


   Sheila felt nervous.  She even felt a little frightened.  She had no
idea whether Ed had been able to do anything about their situation.  During
that 'cock-length' session in his cell, there had been no opportunity to
say anything to him; moreover, from the way he and his cellmate had been
bound, she doubted that he could do even as much as she.  At least at times
(like now) her hands were of some use even though they were manacled up
close to her throat.


   In any case, working as a 'blue girl' might be the only means by which
they might be rescued.  The luggage she had seen in the Reception Room
certainly resembled theirs and, if she were working for Crane, she could
look for her shoes in which the transmitter and receiver were hidden.  On
the other hand, could she persuade Crane that she was serious about wanting
to work as a 'blue girl'?  If he thought that she was lying, that she had a
secret reason for wanting the job, what would he do?  And, even worse, if
she were caught with the transmitter, what would happen to her then?


   "I don't think Crane is going to be pleased," Kelly said as they
proceeded down the hallway.


   "Why, Kelly?" she asked.  "You mean, because I haven't been trained yet?
I've seen you train the other girls.  Besides, I've received some training
from Duke and from Nina."


   "Oh, no," Kelly responded.  "I don't know what he'll think about your
lack of training.  What I meant was"he won't want to return Lezzie LeBeau's
money.  He got a lot for you.


   "As far as your working for him, Crane needs more help.  It's good that
you're older than these high school girls.  They're too flaky to work as
blue girls.  You have brains, I can tell that.  You might work out pretty
good.  Just so you don't act wimpy."


   They reached Crane's door, and Kelly opened it.


   "He's expecting us," she explained, and she peered in.  It was a large
office and, opposite the doorway was a vast series of windows that
overlooked the sea.  Near the left hand wall was some wooden structure that
Sheila supposed was a pillory.  On the right she saw three chairs that
faced the front of a large desk.  Behind the desk were two closed doors.


   "Crane and Sarah must be in his bedroom.  He has a new girl in there,
too.  I don't know who she is, but Crane's had her in there for the last
week."


   They walked across the room, past the three chairs and Crane's desk. 
Kelly opened the bedroom door.


   Oh my god!  it's Wendy!


   Although Sheila had seen many abuses of girls over the past two weeks,
Sheila was still shocked by the sight.  Wendy was bound naked to Crane's
bedroom wall by four manacles, two about her wrists near the ceiling and
two about her ankles near the floor.  The manacles were located far enough
from each other to keep the young woman's limbs spread wide apart.

   Crane was standing before her, a vibrator in his hand and was applying
it to Wendy's genitals.  Another naked girl, a slender brunette of about
eighteen, was kneeling before Crane between Wendy's spread legs.  She was
holding the base of Crane's erect penis, which protruded from his open fly,
and was avidly sucking on its head.


   Kelly whispered.  "He must have heard the buzzer.  We'd better not
interrupt; let's wait; otherwise he'll get pissed."


   They had to wait about a minute.  Crane's expression became a grimace.
He emitted a yell, "Aaaaah!" He closed his eyes.  The kneeling girl closed
hers also, and Sheila presumed, from the motions of the girl's head, that
she was drinking.


   * * *


   Kelly, Crane, and Sheila were seated in Crane's office in the three
chairs in front of his desk.


   "Your application for work as a blue girl sounds to me like a ruse to
avoid being trained," Crane said.


   Sheila felt nervous, but she supposed that every girl who applied for a
blue girl position felt that way.


   Trying to sound confident, she replied, "I'm not afraid of going through
what the other women and girls are going through.  I already received some
training from Nina and Duke."


   "Mostly just instructions," Kelly said.  "She hasn't learned much about
what clients want from a slave."


   "Just why do you think I should hire you?" Crane asked.


   "I know that you're short of people.  Nina said as much.  I've seen some
of what your blue girls do.  I can handle all of it."


   "We're short of trainers, not blue girls."


   "I know, but both Nina and Kelly seem to be working as both.  I've heard
them complain about their long hours.  I could relieve them of some of
their blue girl work."


   Crane nodded, conceding the point.


   "I wonder about your obedience and about how far you're prepared to go
in obeying my orders and the orders of clients."


   Sheila flushed.  "I wasn't at all reluctant when I was on that stage and
you asked me to display myself."


   He shrugged.  "Neither were the other females, except for Jane, the
young blonde.  That proves very little.  I expect you to do whatever I ask
of you."


   "I intend to.  I've already experienced some . . .  uh, rather
unpleasant things."


   "Such as what?"


   Her face hot, Sheila described her experiences in the shed with Ken and
Al, her rape by them and the two ship's officers, and her abuse by the
Senator (although she avoided mentioning his name, fearful that he might be
a friend of Crane's) on the ship.


   "It seems you were forced in those situations," Crane contended. 
"Although you describe them coolly enough."


   Crane paused for a few moments, looking thoughtful.


   "Suppose I, or a client, asks you to whip another girl.  Would you do
it?"


   Sheila forced a smile, hoping she looked sincere.  Without hesitating,
she replied, "Certainly."


   He looked skeptical.  "Would you enjoy giving a girl a whipping?"


   Sheila paused, not wanting to immediately blurt out what she had
pre-decided before she had even entered the elevator prior to this
interview.  She nodded.  "I think so."


   He raised his eyebrows.  "Either you're a good actress or you're what
I'm looking for in a trainer.  I don't expect blue girls to do much
whipping, but they have to give one from time to time."


   Crane stood up.  "I've received an invitation to a party.  I don't often
attend them, but since you're here, I think I will.  I intend both of you
to come along.  I'll decide on your application after I see how you act at
the party."


   "Who's giving it, Master?" Kelly asked.


   "George and Rita."


   * * *


   To be continued.


   To my Readers.  Any comments or suggestions regarding this novel would
be welcomed.  As I stated above, those Readers interested in the MSWord
version may email me a request for it.


   m.mersereau@worldnet.att.net


   306


 - <end of zipped file 'AEPart7.doc'>

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